


Hiding in Plain sight

by lavenderbees



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Dramatic Feliks, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Falling In Love, Gay, I'm Sorry, Miniseries, Multi, Murder, Oh My God, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Relocation, Secrets, Triggers, Typos, Violence, hungary is hungry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2018-12-25 04:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderbees/pseuds/lavenderbees
Summary: Feliks wants to find out what this man is hiding. Based off of promt: I go to a coffee shop everyday after class and you’re always there in the back corner sitting alone and you always order the same thing.  I tried it, and it’s delicious, and you look so sad.





	1. staring

  
Feliks doesn’t remember what caught his attention at first. Maybe it was his sad, green eyes.

He’d always been a sucker for green eyes, which was one of the reasons he adored his own face so much. Feliciano said that he was too full of himself, but he could care less. He was high on the beauty of life, and his face was part of the whole equation.

This man’s eyes were breathtaking. Rheumy as they were, the redness of the surrounding area gave his irises the chance to pop out, contrasting with their light green. If he had the chance to sit and stare, Feliks was sure he would.

Maybe it was his solemn face, staring out upon the small metal table. Feliks was always attracted to the darker side of things, but less because he found it interesting and more because he was incredibly curious about any and every thing. He tried to understand the meaning behind his ever present furrowed brow, but he never came close before deciding to quit in attempt of his homework.

Maybe it was the repetitive manner in which he ordered things. Every time he was there, he ordered a Sriracha vanilla cappuccino; Feliks knew because once when he had gone to the bathroom he'd glanced at his cup passing by and saw the boxes that were checked. He came everyday at 6:30 pm and stayed until 7:18 on the dot. Feliks had also seen his name: Toris. It was a good name. It was a nice name.

Maybe it was the cliche it carried. Watching somebody across a coffee shop and falling hopelessly in love with them was a very common archetype. He liked how romantic it sounded, like he was some suitor gathering up facts to start courting a beautiful damsel. Maybe he liked the idea of it. Maybe he liked Toris' pretty face so much that he liked the distraction of it all. He would always give up focusing on schoolwork to focus on a masterpiece. 

Or, maybe he just really liked the coffee shop and the other was just an unimportant component of it.

Whatever it was, that's where Feliks sat now, at his chair going over notes for class. His double chocolate raspberry cocoa (the second cup) steamed up into his face. The wind outside howled against the windows. 

Feli texted him occasionally about unimportant things that he didn't feel like responding to right then, but eventually he had to respond or else all the buzzing would drive him crazy. No _, Feli, you cannot fill our sink with pasta! Don't wipe it up with my pastel pink socks!_

He heard the bell over the black door jingle and there was Toris, walking in and ordering his cappuccino immediately. He kept his eyes trained on the cookie tray, gnawing on his lip before taking his drink and walking away to his uniform seat. His hair was tied up into a messy ponytail with a thick black rubberband.

He was wearing a long sleeved grey shirt and black jeans that were baggier than the shadows under his eyes. His nose was red, probably from the cold outside. His lips were chafing, even though he licked them constantly. Feliks' eyes found their was to his scarred cheeks. How dark, how tragic. 

After he sat down, he did nothing but stare at the table and crinkle his brows while he sipped out the thin straw. Feliks wished he would look up, just once, so he could steal a glance at those high cheekbones and thick eyebrows, but he had no such luck. He also wished that he could hand him a little of his strawberry chapstick, because the skin of his lips looked like it was about to fall off. 

It was like the more the blonde stared, the more things popped out at him. The crook of his nose and the whisks of hair that fell around his face. His eyelashes that, though not very long, were very dark against his eyelids. 

Feliks never finished his review.


	2. starting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy thanks for even clicking on this

When he stepped into the apartment, Feliks wasn't surprised to see Feli laying upside down on the couch and watching _Frozen_. “Ciao, Feliks!” He greeted as he stepped in.

" Please remind me why you don't live with that boyfriend of yours,” the blonde sighed, taking off his pink jacket. It was especially cold for this early in the year, and he wasn't looking forward to the approaching Winter. It just meant more of his shopping money spent going to the rising heat bill. It hadn't even been this cold that morning, so he hadn't bothered turning on the heat. Feli always got the hot and cold switches mixed up, so he was usually banned from touching the thermometer, but it felt like a freezer in the living room and his roommate could have at least _tried_.

“Ve?”

The man sat up crisscross on the cushion and leaned his elbows on the back of the seat. “Luddy lives with Kiku! Plus, he's _so_ far away from the art department… I don't wanna bike that far everyday!”

“Right, right,” he stretched the words out, flicking on the heat. “And, like, why do you live with me?”

“We share my Netflix!” Feli cheered. He fell back down onto his back to stare at the t.v. “And you give me fashion advice!”

“Oh, right! Thank you for that reminder.”

Feliks threw away the remains of the gluten filled pasta in the coriander and changed into his pajama sweater, made of bright neon material. His first initial was stitched on it with green thread along with a crude heart that his friend from highschool had given him. After heating up some takeout and cursing at his broken nail, he was happily surprised that he hadn't spilled anything on it yet. 

Plopping down next to Feli on the couch, he scrolled through his feed, staring intently as a girl applied one of the best galaxy inspired faces of makeup he'd ever seen. _“Let it Go”_ played in the background, and he couldn't help singing along after the video finished. He cautiously watched Feli from the corner of his eyes. He'd been sitting upside down for 35 minutes now, and he wondered how long it would take before he took on a bloody nose.

When the movie ended, Feli stood and stretched like a lazy cat, walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Did you see Toris today?”

“Yep.” The Sophomore leaned back onto the couch arm dreamily, arm over his forehead. “He was just as beautiful. Like, his aesthetic _really_ gets to me.”

“Mm? Wall wh abow my asthepic?” The russet haired teen asked, talking around his toothbrush. “Yuz et get oo?” Feliks nose crinkled.

“Yeah, gets me disgusted.”

“VOOD!” Feli exclaimed, spitting out the toothpaste foam. “At least I don't wear ugly skirts!”

“Omg, my skirts are fabulous!”

“Well you're a still meanie so _ha_! What time is it?”

Feliks stood, brushing through his short hair with his fingers. “Time for my beauty sleep. Goodnight, loserrr! And don't stay up all night blasting those scary movies of yours! I have to get sleep for our test tomorrow, so you can't crawl into my bed."

Feli stuck out his tongue childishly. “Whatever!”

  
“I hate this teacher,” Feliks muttered under his breath as he sat through another lecture class. The boy next to him tapped his foot like an annoying 4 year old, but he didn't tell him to stop because he didn't feel like wasting his time. The air conditioning was on even though it was 62 F outside. Who even _did_ that?

Out of all his college professors, this one was the worst, maybe because he was at the end of his schedule but probably because he was an insensitive jerk. The fact that it was a Friday and class-free Saturday was just around the corner sweltered his hate even more.

He was paying the most attention he could give, but that was barely any. Feli warned him he would fail his class if he didn't listen, and really he knew. He just didn't really care. His eyes drifted to the window, and he saw him. Walking fast outside, in all his glory and darkness, was Toris, holding a notebook and pulling down his hoodie. His eyes trailed after him as he walked away, shoulders hunched, and Feliks couldn't believe it.

Did Toris go here? Did he stay on the campus? If so, what major was he in? Could it be Sociology like him? He was walking in direction of the cafe, Feliks realized. It was 5:50. Class ended at 6:00, but he didn't want to wait that long. His feet tapped in the anticipation of leaving. By 5:56, he didn't want to wait any longer, so he gathered his things and ran out the door. He thought maybe, just maybe if he ran fast enough and didn't trip like his usual clumsy self he could make it.

When he walked in through the the jingling entrance of the coffee shop he was ecstatic to see that Toris was standing at the front, waiting for his cappuccino. His eyes were trained on the floor. Feliks could change that. Feliks would change that. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he held his chin up high. This was an important moment that he had to make the most of. He walked to the cash register.

“Hello. Can I get, like, a sriracha vanilla cappuccino?” Toris looked up uncertainly and the blonde made sure to keep their eye contact for a good 3 seconds before his anxious eyes flittered away. “Thank you,” Toris whispered quickly when he was handed his cup, and he hurried to his seat. Feliks received his drink, too, sniffing it suspiciously. He really didn't like spicy things, but he would try it nevertheless. If Toris liked it, then it couldn't be that bad.

When he chose his seat, he made sure to take the table across from the brunette’s’ usual one so that maybe, if he had enough luck and tried hard enough, they could make more of that fizzling eye contact that had happened at the register.

He took a swig of his drink while he waited, and was surprised at the tingle across his tongue. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be; in fact, it was actually pretty good. It warmed his throat pleasantly, and the sriracha wasn't as bad with the vanilla to complement its taste. He took another sip and then switched his eyes back to Toris. He was delighted to find the man staring back at him.

The green orbs switched away, but hesitantly found there way back to him. Feliks smiled and watched as his face colored rapidly.

“The coffee’s really really good,” he mouthed, but the other looked at him like he was crazy so he instead beckoned him closer. He hesitated for a long time. 4 minutes, and Feliks reasoned with himself that maybe he just needed a little more time. He could try another day. He was just happy that he'd waved back.

But eventually, Toris did stand and walk his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy please leave kudos and maybe even comments on how much you hate this or what i can do to make it slightly less hateable!!! thanks


	3. talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feliks and toris talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really short bc it just is

After a few steps Felik’ way, he stood there, clearing his throat constantly even though his mouth didn't make a move to say anything. His hands held each other tightly. He tried to create a friendly smile but it ended up in a twitching mess.

“Well, aren't you gonna sit or something?” Feliks asks, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. Toris swallows again and then sits down, flinching at the shriek his chair gives when he pulls it in. The blonde stops himself from laughing, but he does take on a slight smirk and leans forward. “I'm glad you walked over.”

“I-I… Th-Thank-” Toris made a noise in the back of his throat, like he was choking or something near it. Feliks watched silently, hoping that he hadn't pushed him too far, but he did start his sentence again. “Thank y-you.”

“Oh, no problem. I always see you here, you know? Not that I’m like, stalking you or anything, totally not. We just happen to come at the same time and all, and you know, why not try to talk if we're always here at the same time?”

“Makes sense,” he peeped out, still stumbling over his words.

“Btw, my name is Feliks.” The blonde sticks out his hand invitingly before bringing it back down to his side. Stupid Feliks, of course he doesn't want to touch you. You just met!

“I’m Tor... T-Tor-”

“Toris.” He realized it was sort of weird to just know that, so he hurried to explain. “I've, yknow, seen your cup.”

“A-Ah.”

“Yeah,” he hummed, and then leaned forward as far as he possibly could without falling flat on his face. Trancing over his coffee top, he watched as the green eyes followed his pink fingernails. "You like em? I just got them painted like, a week ago."

Toris eyes quickly flicked back up to meet the others. He looked like a guilty child. "Y-Yes, t-they're pre- um, well-"

"Aww, thanks!" Feliks squealed, but he wasn't paying much attention to the man's interest in his nails and more on his face. Finally he could get a proper look, and even though he felt like brushing the stray strand of hair over his eyes away he clenched his fist shut. "How old are you again?"

"I-I'm-" Toris shifted uncomfortably. His averted his gaze. "18."

"Mm? Do you go to college?"

“The o-one down the street?”

The shorter smiled brightly and raised his eyebrows dramatically high. “OMG, ME TOO! We need to like, totally hang out more often!” Feliks checked his phone and saw it was 7:10. “It's almost time for you to leave, so I can just give you my number.”

“Num...ber?”

“Yeah. Number. Here, I'll write it down!” He grabbed a pen and wrote on a nearby napkin, handing it to Toris proudly. “You can call any time. I have a total insomniac of a roommate so he keeps me up all night, so you better promise to. Promise?”

“I-I pr-promise!” Toris rushed out before standing suddenly and grabbing his notebook. “G-Goodbye!”

“Bye!” Feliks waved, following after him with his eyes.

Take _that_ , Feli.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> toris has actual clinical stuttering and i have a freind like that it isn't as simple as this makes it sound but it's close enough


	4. fretting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feliks brags and worries to feli and ludwig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :ooooooooooo

"We totally talked today," Feliks announced as soon as he'd stepped in the house. His nose crinkled as he saw the familiar composed face of a blonde sitting on the couch instead of Feli. "Hello... what was your name again? Oh yeah, Ludwig. Where's Feli?"

Ludwig sighed and dragged his hands over his face. "Hallo, Feliks. Feli's in the bathroom."

"Of course he is. But while you're here I might as well, like, tell you, right? Okay, so-" Ludwig interrupted as politely as he could. "No, I'm actually fine. I'd rather just-" But Feliks paid him no mind, setting down his purse and taking off his shoes. He sat down next to Ludwig and put up his hand.

"Okay, so, first, you know that guy I always talk about who's at that coffee shop I go to all the time? Well, so, I always watch him and stuff, but like, in a totally non-creep perverty way, right? He orders the same thing every time and is always there at the same time as I am, and he's a real cutie. His name is Toris, yeah? So today, I saw him outside my class, and-"

Feli came running from the bathroom, dodging one of his shoes over the floor and landing in Ludwig's lap (more or less.) The man looked slightly suicidal as the two shorter young men began conversing in equally ear splitting tones. "Ciao, Feliks! Are we talking about Toris?"

"Omg, yes! So, anyway, I was telling Ludwig about how I was in that really boring teacher's class, right? And I looked out the window and guess what I saw? Toris walking to the coffee shop! So I rushed out of there and followed him and ordered that like, really spicy drink he usually gets that wasn't too bad btw, and then he looked at me all weird. And so a few minutes later I caught him staring and like, motioned for him to come over, right? And guess what, he totally did! He does this thing where he blushes and stutters a lot and it's actually sorta annoying but also really really cute. So anyway, he sat down and then, then! we actually talked and I found out he's a Freshman at our college! He probably even lives on campus, which is totally great! So, before he left I gave him my number and he even promised to call, and I can't wait but I'm also really nervous because what if he doesn't like my hair or something. Do you think I might be too talkative for him?"

Before Ludwig could mutter a "yes", his boyfriend interjected. "No, no, of course not! That's so great! I can't believe you actually did it!"

Feliks flipped his hair over his shoulder and exchanged a high five with the happy Italian. "I know, right? What should I do next, I mean, after he calls? If he calls."

"He will call! And I think you should just flirt with him alot! Ludwig loves when I flirt with him, right Luddy?" He nestled into the other's slightly red neck.

"Feli, if you think calling me a steaming bowl of pasta is a flirting method, you're horribly wrong. And Feliks, I think you should just stay in his comfort zone. You might scare him off."

"Comfort zones are so last year! I won't molest him or anything, if that's what you're thinking. I think there's something more to him, anyways. He always looks tense and sad and stuff, y'know?"

"Maybe he has cancer," Feli suggested. "Or even worse, erectile dysfunction!"

"Feli, shutup!" Ludwig groaned. "Can you and your friend chill for an hour so we can watch the fricking penguin documentary?"

"Aww, Ludwig, wouldn't you rather fuck him until his back breaks or something like that?"

"Ve~? I don't want my back to break..." Feli whined childishly, wrapping his arms around the German's stiff shoulders. Yet even he possessed a smirk on his face. Ludwig was now full-on bright red. "I hate you all," he muttered again, turning his attention to the blank t.v. Feliks giggled before feeling a vibration in his pocket and instantly taking his phone out his pocket. "OMG, TORIS TOTALLY JUST TEXTED ME!"

"Ah?! What'd he say?" Feli moved from Ludwig's lap to peer over Feliks shoulder. 

 _xxx-xxx-_ xxxx _:_ uh _, hello, is this_ felix _?_

"He spelled my name wrong!"

"Well, don't leave him on read!"

"What do I even say?!"

"Just text!"

**You: It's actually spelled Feliks. But hellooooooo!!**

_xxx-xxx-xxxx: sorry_

**You: It's no problem. I'm really really glad you texted ;)** While he waited for a response, Feliks also change his contact name.

 _cute guy: oh, um thats_ _good... how_ ,,, _are you?_

_cute guy: sorry if that a weird question_

_cute guy: you really dont_ _have to answer if you_ dont wannt _but i jsut hthought_   _that itt would_ _be polite_ of , _e tto_ _ask because_

**You: Aww, you're so sweet! I'm feeling great today, wbu?**

The next text took a long time, and he devoted some of his attention to the documentary playing on their t.v. that only Ludwig paid much attention to.

 _cute guy:_ im _fine, what are you doing_

 _cute guy: if_ its _not a weird question_

 **You: It's not, but honenstly** **I'm just here with my friend and** **his overkill boyfriend watching smth** **on Netflix. It would be better if you were here ;)**

 _cute guy:_ i

_cute guy: um_

_cute guy: thanks_

**You: No prob**

The next responses came 30 minutes later. 

_cute guy: will you be at the coffee shop tomorrow?_

_cute guy: im_ _just wondering, because i_ _just... am_

**You: Cute of you to ask~ Yes, I will. I have no classes tomorrow.**

_cute guy: oh_

_cute guy: do you think we could maybe_

cute _guy: sit together?_

_cute guy: or not_

**You: OF COURSE WE CAN SIT TOGETHER OMG YES**

_cute guy: ah okay_

_cute guy: im_ _about to go to sleep so um_

 _cute guy: goodnight_ _?_

Y **ou: Goodnight and sweet dreams! Ttyl tmrw** ** <3**

Feliks sighed wistfully and laid his head on Feli's shoulder. "Feli, I'm officially and totally in love."

"Poor guy," Ludwig sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know where i'm going with this but just keep reading


	5. planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> future plans are made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh sorry i have had lots of school work ;;

“Ew, I _totally_ stepped in shit outside! People need to pick up after themselves!” Feliks huffed indignantly, setting down his bag in the chair next to his. His angled eyebrows, lowered down in a clear frown, communicated his (perhaps undue) discontentment.

Toris glanced up, eyes just short of disappearing under the strands of his messy brown bangs. It was tied up in its customary ponytail, but he was donning an elastic pink hair tie instead of his recurrent black band. Feliks smiled to himself for a while, because that was _totally_ his hair band in the younger’s hair. He wondered, for a few seconds, what the Freshman would look like with his hair down.

“Hello, F-Feliks,” he replied quietly, a smile falling across his lips. The older felt weak in the knees with the way the corner of his mouth lifted to show… what was it? Something that made him appear lighter and happier and softer than he had 6 days ago. What could it even be described as? Nothing in his vocabulary would be able to capture it.

Since last Saturday, they'd been meeting up regularly every day after classes. Even if he rarely talked, Feliks was more than happy to have somebody listen to him complain about how one of his knee-highs kept slipping down his leg or about how low his professor’s fashion taste was.

Feli filled his head with absurd and outlandish possibilities. Perhaps he was a spy, or an undercover police officer. Maybe he was a time traveler lost in a time loop. Ludwig suggested, much more rationally but none the more favorably, that maybe he just didn't want some strange man following him around all day. Both suggestions were ignored.

Sometimes, when he really gathered the courage up, the brunette would stutter out a detail about his life that left him breathless by the time he finished, despite the fact that it was always something simple and non-exclusive. The small, triumphant tilt of his chin when Feliks showed his interest was always worth it.

“Yeah, hey, and- _Omg_ , did you get me a coffee?!”

Toris nodded and looked down at his hands, cheeks bright and red. “W-well, yes. It's just the u-usual.”

“Ah! My day just got _so_ much better!” As if to prove his point he took out his phone and angled the camera towards the plastic container, snapping a picture of it and exclaiming afterward, “Omg, it totally looks artsy with the snowy window!” Toris gave a hum of agreement and started fidgeting with his thumbs again. “Yo-“ He paused for the quickest moment, tendrils of red curling up his face again. “ _I-It’s_ very pretty.”

Feliks texted in fake obliviousness, hiding the pleased smile fighting to be shown on his lips. “I know, right?! So how’s your day been, anyway?”

“Oh, o-okay, I think. M-My, um… p-pro-professor, he gave us a te-test, earlier, but i-it was more l-like-” he paused, glancing back up to make sure the blonde was even paying attention. He did that a lot, Feliks noticed. As if he would really think words that fell from such beautiful lips could ever be seen as unimportant. “Well?”

“O-Oh! I-It was like an exam, wi-with 95 questions.” Toris released an airy laugh, and any place a fraction of the other's mind might have been previously was now honed in directly on him. It was an awing occurrence, that sound, and he wanted more of them. “Everybody was s-super mad.”

“Mm? Who wouldn't be? Professors can be, like, real _dicks_ sometimes! I would _die_ if my tests were that long.” Leaning back dramatically in his chair, he stretched his words and rolled his eyes.

Toris’ smile brightened and he glanced out the window. “Yeah... Y-You think it’ll… snow a lot this y-year?”

“Maybe. It did last year, too, almost to 4 inches at one point, so I think there's a good chance. You think you're prepared for _snowmageddon_?”

“Mm,” Toris murmured, eyes still trained outside. He looked like he was trying to remember something, like a lost grocery list or pencil except of much more importance. His gaze fixed on an Evergreen standing on the side of the road that wasn’t really at _all_ interesting to Felix. Most of his attention was trained on the way the other's pupils dilated. His soft gaze became almost piercing, far-reaching and calculatingly cold. It stretched on for minutes, Feliks just watching him stare out the window at some random frosted tree; and yet he still hadn’t stuttered out one word.

“Hello…? Don't get all spacey on me. Since you seem to be so worried, maybe you can go shopping for coats and stuff with me. It'll be fun!”

The brunette finally turned back to face him, bright smile gone and replaced with an anxious stare. “W-What?”

“You know, like shopping. _Outside? Stores? Clothes?_ ” The Sophomore took a sip of his coffee and watched him open and close his mouth multiple times.

“B-But- But why m-me?”

“Well, why not? You're cute, and shopping is totally fun unless you do it with Gilbert!”

“G-Gilbert?! The one in Humanities?”

Feliks turned white. “… Yes?”

“H-He’s so nice, though! M-My first day, he helped me a-around campus.”

“MY GOD! HE'S _SO_ CORRUPTED YOU! That- _That_ _insufferable_ _jerk_!”

“Um-“

“Don’t even mention his disgusting name! Just- Just what I was asking: Do you wanna go? It’ll be super fun!”

“Mm…” Toris looked up at him once again, eyes flicking back and forth as if he was trying to find some well hidden motive. The older watched as he became more distressed, eyebrows curving down again and lip gnawing intensifying. “I-I-I don't know…”

“Hey, come one!” The untrusting green eyes followed the manicured fingernails path to poking his shoulder. “It’ll be totally amazinnnng~” He added.

He seemed to have a short debate in his head, but it only lasted a few seconds. He let out a deep breath, closing his eyes and nodding. “O-Okay, okay.”

“Yes!” The squeak grabbed the attention of the cashier, but Feliks paid no mind to her. “How about Friday after class, then? We can meet up here at 6!”

And while Feliks was more than happy when Toris nodded in agreement, he couldn’t help but notice how terrified he looked when he said goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes don’t know what exactly the next chap should be like so um??? give me advice on how i can improve or anything you’d possibly wanna see idk just pleaseeee <3


	6. outing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actually thought this would go well?????? think again oops

Feliks arrived there at 6 on the dot, donning his favorite skirt and sweater and typing to Feli furiously on his phone. He was shaking in excitement; it was radiating off of him, in the way his foot hit the ground every half a second, in the way his fingers hit his phone screen impossibly fast, in the way his teeth captured his lower glossed lip between them. He'd been that way since earlier that morning, and it had only grown from there (though his roommate and classmates throughout the day did not at all feel half the rush he did, and were very annoyed at all the noise he made.)

No matter how many times the blonde reminded himself that to Toris it was probably just a friendly outing, he couldn't remove the impression in his mind that it was not remotely a simple friendly outing. In attempts to distract himself from thinking too much on exactly what it was, he went over the night's plan in his head again. He'd carefully pieced together the safest way to ensure that both of them liked the events to the fullest extent, but he wasn't sure if it could even be better than any other plans because of all the variables included. For one, there was always a lot of people Friday night. With most having no or few classes the next day, it gave way to possibilities that wouldn't even be thought about on a school night. 

Feliks' plan of shopping was doused when Feli suggested that Toris didn't sound like the type of guy who would like that sort of thing, and he agreed grudgingly that he was probably right. He scrambled for a new idea that the other would like, and decided that the park would be best. There wouldn't be too many people there, and walking around was always nice at that time of year as long as you had a jacket to accompany you along with a friend. The lights hung up on the branches of the trees glowed in the nighttime in hues of orange and yellow, so it was a scenery plus by far. He had accidentally overlooked the Fall Festival event that would be taking place there lasting from Friday throughout Saturday and Sunday. He had forgotten all about it actually, with all the snow. It seemed more like winter than fall, so he couldn't blame himself when Ludwig had reminded him about it. He had thought all the better, ignoring the fact hundreds of loud college students and regular people alike would be swarmed there.

If he was going to think twice about it, Toris' text of " _sounds great"_ in reply to his change of plans banished them. It did sound great, didn't it? He patted himself on the back in pride for being so intuitive.

Getting there had been borderline difficult. With so many people walking around the sidewalks were flooded, and he had to slide through wherever he had the chance. He hoped that wouldn't be too much of a bother for them later on.

The bell above the door jingled and Feliks looked up to see Toris. He finally understood why all his favorite chick-flicks had that one moment when the main character's world seemed to come to a stuttering stop after seeing their love interest. Because standing there, he looked breathtaking. He'd never seen the brunette in anything but baggy, black pants, but there he was wearing skinny blue jeans and a dark brown jacket that though not fashionable in the older's eyes, still looked amazing on him. His hair was still worn up, but that was the only fairness in that situation. Feliks was positive he would explode if he got any more perfect.

"D-Do you not l-like my jeans? I-I know they're different, but i-it was, uh, um... a special occasion." Toris talked careful and slow, but it did nothing to hinder the nervous tremor in his voice. He walked over and stood next to him, shrugging noncommittally as his eyes scanned over his body. "Yeah, they're sorta last year."

The tight face fell like he expected it. Like he  _deserved_ it. Feliks felt a bubble of anger rise in his chest. It warmed the back of his throat like a steaming cup of coffee. How dare somebody make him think he deserved this? He swallowed it before it could take manifest in the form of scathing words. 

"R-Really?! I'm sorry, I do-"

"Gosh, learn to take a joke!" Feliks giggled, successfully masking his anger. "I love those pants on you, they're cute." 

"R-Really?" His pale cheeks were bright and red now, so Feliks took the opportunity to grab his hand and lead him outside. For the whole 8 seconds, he didn't let go. That was something. "Yeah, duh. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. Now lets go to the park. It's not that far away, maybe like a few blocks?"

The walk there wasn't quiet, even though neither of them talked. A buzzing noise was everywhere already, so they decided to hold back on any real conversation until actually there. Halfway, Feliks slipped on ice and flailed his arms pointlessly before landing straight on his bottom. They were both quiet again, Feliks sitting there and Toris standing over him, debating offering a hand to help him up or letting him do it himself. He held back his strong urge to laugh before the man on the floor started cackling hysterically, giving the all clear. They just stood there laughing, loud and impossible to stop. Toris tried multiple times to quit. He helped the blonde up off the ground and walked a few feet and was still laughing, and the fact that the shorter next to him was still laughing as well didn't help.

They laughed all the way until they got to the entrance of the park, where the Sophomore stuck out a hand and swallowed his giggle. "Okay, okay, no more!"

His companion nodded in agreement, not daring to speak until he was certain he wouldn't burst out again. When he looked up, a smile was on his face instead of the awkward grimace he carried around usually. It made him look so much younger, like his actual age. Why couldn't he just be like this all the time? "Your smile is really nice."

Toris stumbled over the air, searching for something to say. Was this flirting? What was happening? "S-So's... yours?" The blonde placed his hands on his cheeks.

"So cute, ah! Where do you think we should go first? There's a lot of stuff to do, like make pottery and paint, and then they also have a Ferris wheel over by the pond, which is like, a requirement. The little booths have cool things and- oh, candy apples!" He rushed over to the treat stand and came back so fast Toris wasn't even sure he was gone in the first place. "Here, I bought you one too. Now, where too first?" 

"U-Um..." He looked around, squeezing his wooden apple stick. There really were a lot of people here. Groups of men and women and families, talking among themselves with loud voices. He felt his nerves buzzing in his head. His skin crawled with anxiety. The air felt thin. He had to keep it cool and collected. He had to keep calm. 

He couldn't recall the last time he'd been to any social event. Maybe last year? It had been too long to remember, and even then it wasn't pleasant. If he lost himself here, there was no way Feliks would want to talk to him again. "H-How about we just work our way back to the p-pond?"

"Perfect idea!"

What ensued was nothing less of chaos, but a fun kind, at least. 

They stopped at little stands to look at carvings and paintings. One was filled with tiny stone statues that they debated being tiny people stuck in cement (Feliks argued it was totally possible).

They joined a street magician's show but stopped halfway because the shorter worried dove poop would get in his hair.

There was a small petting zoo filled with alpacas, sheep, and bunnies, so of course, Feliks demanded they stop there and stay for at least 20 minutes. He hed a black sniffling bunny and laughed at how standoffish Toris was with the old goat standing in the corner. _"W-Why do his eyes follow m-me?! Creep!"_

_"ITS JUST A GOAT, TORIS!"_

Their last stop before the Ferris wheel was something common you could probably find at a carnival. It was a bottle ring toss, and it would have probably been overlooked if not for Toris asking to stop. Stuffed animals lined the wall, and his eyes caught on a pink one to the left. "Th-Think I could get one of the m-mediums?"

"In my totally honest opinion, no." Feliks shrugged and kept walking, only coming to a stop when realizing the other was still behind him. "What are you waiting for?"

"To win." 

A determination lit in his eyes like a match and spread to his posture like a fire. 10 rings for $3.50? He could totally make the bottles with at least three of them. He only needed to make 3 shots for the animal.

It turns out getting it around the bottle's neck was much harder than he thought. By the end of it, he had made a grand total of zero bottles. "Told you so!" His partner declared. "These games are always- What, are you seriously buying some _more_?" Toris _was_ seriously buying more. He absolutely wanted to get that stuffed animal.

So, that's how he spent $17.50 in pursuit of the toy despite the older's warnings. The second try was an absolute fail, but the third time he made one bottle, in the very back, and decided to concentrate on that area. The fourth time he made another bottle in the back row, ignoring the sound of Feliks chattering away on his phone in the background. _"Yeah, I didn't know he could be, like, this stubborn! I'm not gonna lie, it's sorta... hot? No, Feli!"_

He didn't know what he was trying to prove. That he could get plastic rings around bottles? That he could calculate the distance of one point to another? Whatever it was, it felt important so he kept trying. His first shot the fifth time landed on a bottle in the front, and he still had 9 rings to spare. Even the booth owner looked amused. Was it that serious, for the kid to be there crinkling his brows and judging the distance so intensely? She almost wanted to give the stuffed bunny over so he could stop trying. His fourth ring landed on a second bottle, and his confidence soared. He could totally make that middle one.

All the shots after that were faulty. On his last ring, he sighed and got ready to throw, Feliks standing next to him and taking pictures of everything happening. "You go, Toris! I guess I'm like, cheering for you? You can do it!"

He threw the ring and watched it bounce off the bottle top... before landing over another! "Y-yes!"

The owner stepped forward, shaking her head and sighing. "Kid, you just wasted $17. Which do you-" 

"The p-pink one!" 

"The pink one it is. Thanks for the business, I guess. No wonder you college kids starve to death. Ugh, _Millenials_."

Taking the pink bunny she handed over, Toris felt triumphant. Powerful, even, though it sounded dumb. "P-Proved you wrong!"

"Pfft- You totally did." Feliks shook his head and walked along. "All that to prove me wrong?"

"Yes..." His cheeks were red again, and gone was his air of confidence. It disappeared instantly and was replaced with anxious hesitance. "And a-also, to give you this."

He held out the animal, looking down at his feet again. It was the only thing he could focus on. "I-It's honestly okay if y-you don't want it, I-I just... since you bought me, you know, um, t-the candy apple, and it's pink, I th-thought you'd like it.' 

There was a pause. Neither of them said anything before- "Omg, Are you serious? Are you kidding me?! Of course, I want it! This is so sweet, OH MY GOSHHHH!" Instead of taking the stuffed animal from his hands he flung his arms around Toris neck, hugging tightly and providing no way of escape. It was supernatural how securely he held on. How could somebody so small possess such strength? The world would never know. 

After taking it from him, he led the way to the Ferris wheel. It was taller than he imagined it to be, up to maybe 80 feet, but everything else was pretty nondescript. The spires were painted blue and red while the carts were yellow. Blinking multicolored lights lined the middle beams, changing in color every few seconds. They reflected off the water, giving it a shimmery glow. It chillingly reminded Toris of-

"Come on! The line's short right now because this was the first thing people came to, so your plan worked well!"

They bought the tickets and waited in line, again in silence. It was much quieter now, with a minimal amount of people around, but Toris felt much heavier. His throat felt tight. He didn't know where the feeling came from, so suddenly, but it was unwelcome and threatening. He tried to remind himself that he was with Feliks, at _their_ park Fall Festival, near _his_ university. He was safe right then. Nothing bad was happening. Nothing bad would happen.

They got on their cart and started inching their way up to the skyline. The pond was beautiful from up there. Everything was. Everyone looked like ants, scurrying around and caught up with things neither Toris or Feliks could understand but was just as important to the people personally as it was nonimportant to the two students. Every worry seemed so trivial up there that it was Toris found it funny how panicked he was.

"It's totally cool, right?" Feliks whispered across from him. He was in love with the whole affair, the lights, the heights, the cold, the atmosphere. 

"Yeah," Toris agreed. looking around at all the lights from the ground. "It is."

"When I was alot younger, my aunt always took me here every year. I'd get like, totally mad because we always had to share a cart with another family and I wanted to ride it alone. That's why we started coming during the night. There weren't as many people waiting so I never had to share with strangers. It definitely messes up the vibes." The brunette was trained on the flowery scent of the other, so he could only dazedly nod his head.

Feliks sat quietly again for a moment, wondering if he should say what he wanted to. The light from the ground reflected in those green pools and he really needed something to express his feelings. "You know, you remind me of..."

"Hm?" His eyes snapped back to the blonde. 

"You remind me of... a star." _Was that it? A star? A burning, plain old ball of light? Try again, Feliks_. "No... a flower."

"W-What?" Toris asked. His shoulders were stiff.

"You remind me of a flower," Feliks said again, more sure of himself. That was it. A flower. Graceful and beautiful in it's fragility. He was very proud of the description, but Toris was not at all pleased. The panic in his eyes scared his senior more than he could understand. His lips worked to say something. His cheeks were pale in the moonlight. "W-Why- How'd you... I-I-I'm-"

_"Toris, you're my sunflower, da?"_

"Toris, are you okay? You don't look too good." He moved away from the hand being reached out to him. His chest heaved up and down, quick and fast. The cart suddenly felt too small. He smelled the liquor a previous rider had spilled on the floor. _He smelled vodka._   He needed to get out.

"D-Don't _touch_ me! Get a-away!" He couldn't hear his own voice over the buzz in his head. He ignored the warm tears falling down his cheeks. He tried to count the seconds until he reached the ground, but he couldn't think in a linear fashion anymore. Memories flashed behind his eyes. He needed them to stop. "GET AWAY!"

"Toris, I-"

They made it to the ground and as soon as the door opened he bolted out, leaving Feliks no reaction time to follow after him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry guys my finger slippe d but uh leave a kudo and/or a comment if u can uvu


	7. wondering, wandering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where had he been? who had he been?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh heyyyy guys!! hope your day has been going GUCCI and thx for stopping by to look @ this!!  
> updated the tags because i have a better sense of where i want this to go so yeah check em out if you want! + read carefully might or might not be some triggers

"Four whole days," Feliks muttered. His eyes scanned over the seconds ticking by on the phone screen. "91 hours and 58 minutes." The body next to him in the bed began to stir. A long yawn was sounded before a croaky voice followed.

"Ve... Feliks, is that you? What time is it...?"

"It's 11:59- Oh, wait, no. It is now 12:00, officially marking the fifth day, and 92nd hour of Toris disappearing." 

"Hmm..." The Italian turned over onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow. "Why is your phone so bright?" 

Feliks sighed and stretched out his arms. "I don't know."

"And why are you in my bed? Don't you have classes tomorrow?"

"Ugh..." Feliks turned on his side. "Don't get me started. I can't even think straight, with all this stress." 

"Hm..." Feli was steadily drifting back to sleep, but he put in the effort to lazily pat his roommate's head. "There, there... you'll... be fine~" Feliks groaned and rolled off. Why did he try anymore? It was a hopeless attempt. Once the prior was in bed, there was no getting him out until his full night's sleep. "Yeah, whatever. I'm going to get a McFlurry from McDonald's. If I don't come back, don't bother reporting my death. It was suicide."

Grabbing his coat and scarf, Feliks took his pair of keys and walked out into the frigid air. The wind hit him straight in the face as soon as he stepped out the door. He knew that it was below freezing, but it was definitely the lowest temperature he'd been outside in. Most of the snow from last week was melted, but there was another storm coming later next week and it was guaranteed to be worse than the previous. His boots cut through the white sheets of semi-ice with practiced steps. 

His mom always complained nonstop when he was younger; the only reason she moved to America was that of the promise of warmer temperatures. Feliks had never actually been to Poland, but he'd heard that it was usually colder than that even in the spring. He couldn't imagine that, and he was always glad that it snowed much less here. Still, that didn't change his dislike of the weather conditions. Even if there always was the pros of a clearer night sky and the crisp smelling air, there was nothing worse than shivering while walking along an empty street- _alone._

His mind switched back to Toris. Where was he?

That had been all the blonde could think about the past days. Where had he gone after running off so abruptly? What had he said wrong that night? Everything seemed to go smooth enough. He'd been sitting up every night, thinking about it after coming back from the coffee shop and finding absolutely nobody in the corner seat near the window. He slept with the pink bunny, sighing against its fuzzy nylon fur and going over the events repeatedly. He could find nothing at all. No clues, no hints as to what he had done. One moment they were admiring the stars, blinking and twinkling against the stark darkness and the next the young man was staring at him as if he said he was a chainsaw murderer.

He shivered. That expression he gave, it really was terrifying. His deep, sad eyes, his quivering lips. The glassiness of his eyes that wasn't to the normal extent. He looked horrified, like he was up against the greatest fight for his life. Just thinking about it made Feliks wants to throw up. 

He focused back on what he was doing. Instead of taking the path to the fast food restaurant, he was found his feet leading him in the direction of the coffee shop. He thought of turning back around but decided better of it. Their ice cream machine would probably be broken, anyways, and he never took advantage of the fact that the place was open every day for 24 hours. Why not try something new in the face of adversity?

He saw the welcoming light spilling into the street, a warm yellowish glow. It looked even more appetizing on such a cold night.

Stepping inside, he closed his eyes and took a deep sniff. The air smelled like it always did, and unconsciously, his eyes flickered to the seat like they did routinely. He didn't expect to see anybody. There hadn't been in 4 days, but- speak of the devil, slumped over and drooling on sheets of notes was a sleeping angel. Toris was right there a few feet away from his reach. 

Feliks blinked to make sure he wasn't dreaming, and then again to refocus his gaze. Walking to the cashier, he ordered the hot chocolate. Pointing to Toris as he took it, he asked as nonchalantly as he could, "Hey, how long has that guy been here?"

"Toris? He comes here sometimes and stays most the night. Used to be annoying, but the kid looks like he could use it."

"Oh. Thanks." Walking to the table, he sat and stared. There wasn't anything else he was sure he should do. He wanted to wait till he woke up, but that could last too long. Then he thought of waking him up himself, but that would be totally rude. He tried to decide what he would say, or ask, or do, but a blank came up where ideas should be. He had nothing. 

Watching the rise of his back, his fluttering eyelashes, his parted lips. It was all great enough, but his impatient curiosity got the best of him eventually. "Hey, Toris, wake up." He barely stirred. After multiple attempts of verbal commands, he shook his shoulder softly. "Toris, it's-"

"I-I'm awake!" He bolted up, knocking his paper and pencil of the table and onto the laminate floor. His knee hit the table. His green eyes were tired and wide, and he repeated his previous words. "I'm awake!" 

"It's only me." 

Once his faraway eyes registered who was sitting in front of him his face fell into wariness. "Feliks..."

"Toris?"

"H-Hello..."

After checking to see if he was okay, Feliks stood halfway from his chair. Reflexes took over. "Where have you been?! I've been worrying to death, for days. Like, what if you had decided to jump off a building or something? Or if you were really sick?!"

"I... I'm sorry..."

"Sorry doesn't make it fine, surprise! Are you even going to... tell me where you've been, stupid!" His pent-up frustration from the past few days was all rolled into one big burst, and he just felt guiltier after vocalizing it.

"A-Are you... mad?" He didn't even give the other the chance to answer. "You're m-mad. I-I swear I-I can explain, just, p-please- please don't- d-don't get mad at m-m-me-" The high staccato tremor in his voice rose to a fever pitch. It had accelerated faster than he'd seen it do before. His lowered head and tightly shut eyes were disconcerting, at the least, but Feliks didn't make a move to do anything until he saw the tear slipping down the pale cheeks. 

"You're- Why are you crying?! It's totally not that serious! Like, I'm being honest, it's-"

"I-I-I'm s-s-s--" He choked over his own voice again, and suddenly the older hoped that it really was a dream because seeing all those tears fall down his tight cheeks and from his chin made him sick. Had he sounded that mad? He wasn't good at dealing with crying, even though he did it himself all the time. Except, that was always for unimportant reasons, like his favorite show's season ending or his hair deciding to puff out. These tears had an underlying cause and he had no idea about what to do or solve first. He had to do something. He couldn't just sit and watch. Trying not to panic, he moved to sit next to him.

"Hey, wait, um... Toris, don't- don't, like... cry?" He reached out a hand to place on his shoulder and then brought it back to his side. He wouldn't appreciate that right now, would he? "It'll be okay. I promise, I'm not even mad! Like, honest to death, I'm not. Just- Ugh, stop crying, please."

The employee eyed them cautiously from the cashier but said nothing. It's not like anyone else was there, but Feliks really wished there was. Maybe as a distraction, so he wouldn't have to focus on all the water slipping down the sharp jaw and the guilt building in his chest.

"I- I need to g-go. Bye." He abruptly- every move he made that night was abrupt- picked up his papers and pencil and stuffed them into his bag, wiping at his tears with his sleeves. Even with his slow reaction time, the Sophomore still had sense enough to shout after him before he left. "Toris, please!"

He kept on, anyways. Before he ran out Feliks realized that he wasn't even wearing a jacket. Just the excuse he was looking for. Just what he, what _they_ , needed. He stood up and ran after him, out of the warm cafe and into the cold night.

 

It took longer than he thought it would to reach him. Toris was fast, but Feliks was persistent. He had to follow by sound, as the street lights did nothing to help him navigate his way in such an intense darkness. The moon and stars provided nothing but decoration. "Toris, stop! Wait up!"

He chased him 5 blocks down, desperate breaths billowing out in front of his face. After tying his coat around his waist he felt sweat pricking at the back of his neck, icy combined with the cold weather and colder wind. How long could he keep this up? He hadn't run this far continually in ages; he wasn't particularly in shape. He knew he had to stop soon, but if he could just go a little longer he knew he'd reach him.

After a few yards down, he caught sight of his target, huffing upon his knees and grasping the snow between his palms. He was retching violently, and the sound of liquid hitting the ground followed afterward. 

"Oh my god!" Feliks hissed, running to crouch next to him. He overlooked the pool of sick sitting by his hands. "What the actual hell were you doing?! Are you, like, crazy? You don't even have a jacket and it's barely 10 degrees out here! You could die!"

It would have been better if he had just stayed there on the ground, struggling to breathe. It would have been better if he had just apologized in that tone of stuttering staccato. It would have been better if he had accepted the help being offered to him. Instead, he looked up, and his green eyes flashed in some hidden darkness. "There's something so beautiful about a cold, black night," he whispered bitterly. His voice was sharp with conviction; scathing. It reminded Feliks of his mother.

"There's something amazing about the way it envelopes you, permeates all your cracks and chokes you until it's all you can think about. Something so  _romantic_." His voice cracked and dropped. His sobs were bitter and loud, desperately fighting to be heard over the howling wind that overpowered them. Tears mixed with the mess of liquid and chunks under his mouth. He hadn't stuttered once yet.  "There's something so awful about it, but that's only fair. It's only fair that there are two sides to a day and one of them is the sunniest smile and the other is the darkest grin. It's only fair to compromise."

"Toris..." Feliks sandwiched his cold hand between his own and the younger looked up with the same puffy eyes. He had no clue what was going on at that point, but he knew he had to do something. They were silent. The scrabbling of a squirrel scaling a tree sounded to the right. 

"Have you been to Russia?" Toris asked suddenly. "Have you been to St. Petersburg?" 

"No," Feliks whispered as his eyes searched for something in the situation with meaning. Or perhaps something that wasn't horrible. Toris looked so sad and angry and _lost_. It was too cold. The wind was too hard. No, everything was horrible.

"I have," he murmured. "I have and it's just like this."

And then he passed out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i never said it was slow burn,,,  
> but ugh i never have enough time to read over it so there's always so many typos and weirdly phrased shit k i l l m e  
> anyways thx so much for leaving kudos and comments like?? blesssss ya'll <3


	8. burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> toris is burning inside and outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK ALGEBRA 1 FM L sorry I was plannin to post this saturday but,,, i had a lil' p ro b l e m so this is a v short chap. p much a filler chapter can't have drama 24/7 coughsaidnooneevercough  
> anywayz try 2 enjoy regardless!!!

Feliks debated calling the police. Was this a life-threatening situation? Could he die? He was still breathing, and he didn't feel like the block of ice he did a few minutes ago. That was a good sign, wasn't it? Were the police even on duty?  Of course, they were, but instead of dialing 911 he typed the first number that came to mind. "Feli, we really really really need you to pick us up."

"What... Its 12:45 in the morning, what are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter! Call and Uber or something. We're on the corner of... um... that one street by the O'Reily's? Except it's the red one?? Just please hurry!" 

The trees shook like they were as scared as he was, and he hung up and kneeled next to the unconscious brunette. "Toris, I really need you to wake up," he whispered, wrapping his coat around his sharp shoulders. He couldn't feel his nose and fingers anymore. "I'll give the same five minutes I'm giving Feli to get here, and if you don't then I have to call an ambulance, and I'd rather not because those are super expensive so please, come on." He got nothing in response except the steady rise and fall of his chest. Were his breaths growing shallow? How could he tell? 

"They're over here!" His head snapped up. Dread gathered in his chest. He knew that voice. 

"Gilbert," he muttered, but he couldn't really crinkle his nose. "Why are you here?" 

He was temporarily ignored as the albino rushed to Toris' other side. Feeling his forehead and neck, he winced and picked him. "He feels like a fucking fire! What were you guys thinking about?"

"We were-" Feliks tried to stand but found that his legs were unsteady. Ludwig rushed over to help him into the car. "Bruder! That's not what's important right now."

"Sorryyy," he hummed, sliding into the backseat with the body next to him. "But shouldn't we be going to the hospital or something?"

"What do you know?" Feliks tried to say, but he couldn't move his lips. Ludwig ignored the remark all together and drove 20 miles over the speed limit. Sitting next to him, the student in the passenger's seat realized just how tired he was. He couldn't even lift his head. At the apartment, he didn't say anything when he was picked up again, but he still kept a close watch on how the other brother handled the limp body.

"Wha... What the heck?!" He heard Feli screech as soon as he saw Toris. "Why didn't you go to the ER?"

"Please help!" Feliks wailed instead, lip quivering like a child. Feli ordered his boyfriend to start warm bath water. Meanwhile, he commanded Gilbert to get him a thermometer and check the fridge for onions. After both Germans were occupied, he started stripping Toris to his boxers. The other man in the room could finally relax a millimeter of the way.

It really was amazing how different Feli could be if allowed to. He fooled many with his "whimsical and unsuspecting Italian" act, but anybody who really knew him soon learned that it wasn't at all the case. He was always calm and collected when facing any dangerous situations, and though very short and lanky he could stand his ground when forced to.  "Dio mio..." he breathed suddenly. It didn't sound at all calm and collected. "What the hell are these?"

Feliks, looking back, regrets peering over his friend's shoulder, because he was met with soft pink scar tissue. He decided right then that maybe he didn't really like the color of pink at all, because it looked horrible on the pale stretch of stomach. _"What the hell are these?"_ the otherrepeated, tracing his shaking hand over the expanse of skin and then clenching his fingers into a tight fist. "Who did this to him? Do you know who did this to him?"

"No," the blonde croaked. The room spun around him. The world rotated on its axis. What had he gotten himself into? "No, I didn't even know they were there."

"Why would somebody do this? How could they- how dare somebody fucking _do_ this?" The words had the potential to be intimidating, but the Italian's tears stole the anger away from them. The Sophomore couldn't imagine the half of all the memories flashing behind those amber eyes; cold nights with multiple men, raised voices and various bruises. He wanted to comfort him, but the words died in his throat. Thankfully, Ludwig was there to alert them that the bath was ready and being the quick thinking young man he was, consoled him instead.  

After the bath, Toris was laid back on the couch by the younger German, the only one in the room who was thinking rationally. "I took his temperature. It's 102.3, which isn't as dangerous as it could be. He was saying something in the bathroom, but I couldn't understand the language."

"Wow, he looks dead," Gilbert commented, crouching down next to the couch. "Like Sleeping Beauty. Maybe he needs a kiss from prince charming~" 

"Shutup, Gilbert!" Feliciano hissed. Feliks was extremely grateful for that, at least. One of the few things the Italian and he had in common was their collective hate for the albino. He would've said the same thing, if not for his massive headache and the fact that it felt like he had swallowed a handful of razors. 

"What are these onions and socks for, anyways?" Gilbert asked, ignoring the angry shouts. "We gonna eat them or-"

"Give me these!" Feli grabbed the items out of his hands. "And bring me the boiling water!" Gilbert mock-saluted and ran off to the kitchen while the other sat down next to Toris. He placed the onion slices on the soles of Toris' feet and then rolled the socks over them. 

"There," Feli sighed, pressing his forehead into his boyfriend's side. "That'll bring down the fever. He has to breathe the steam to loosen any phlegm, then we have to monitor his temperature for the next 12 hours to see if it drops, after that...." As he kept muttering to himself, Ludwig and Feliks met eyes and the first blonde whispered "Biology Minor" as if that explained everything. 

"нет!" Toris said abruptly, bolting up again with the same wide eyes. Feliks had never moved so fast in his life. He forgot all about his sore throat.

"Toris? Oh my god, thank heavens you're finally awake!"

"W-Where am I-I?" His green irises switched from Feli to Ludwig and back to Feliks. "When d-did I get h-here? W-Who are t-they?"

"Wait! Before you panic, and please don't, btw, this is the friend I mentioned, Feliciano? And that's Ludwig, his boyfriend and-"

"Also my brother!"

Gilbert rushed out from the kitchen, scaring Feliks half to death. To make it worse Toris seemed _relieved_ after seeing him. "Gilbert!" He exclaimed, face softening into a somewhat reassured smile.

"Yes, it is he!" He sat on the couch next to Toris, who looked to him like he was God or something. "Kid, I would say you scared me if I was any less me." Toris didn't flinch back when he rested his palm on his head. He even laughed like the joke was funny.

"I-I'm sorry, Gil," he said, practically gushing out affection. When had they gotten so close? Feliks bristled from where he sat. "But, um, w-where am I?"

Before the albino could answer, the blonde standing by the chair interrupted. "We're at Feli's and my apartment. We brought you here after you, like, totally passed out earlier."

"O-Oh... S-Sorry for t-the i-interruption..." He was acting standoffish again, and the blonde almost cursed.

"It's really not that big of a problem, it's just-" 

"Gilbert, go buy some Tylenol," Feli ordered. He looked straight at Toris. A man with a mission. "Awwww..." Gilbert whined, taking the money but making no move to the door. "But things just got fun!"

" _Gilbert_..." Feli warned, training his frigid gaze on the Senior instead. "10 seconds." 

"Geez!" He exclaimed, but slipped on his coat and sneakers anyways.  "What is it with all these scary Freshmen ordering me around?" Once he left it was really quiet. Partially because Ludwig snored softly from the recliner he shared and Feliks was waiting for the Italian to speak. No matter how oblivious he was, he would never dare cut off Feli, especially not when he was in a mood like that one.

"Toris," he started, finally breaking the tense air. "I think we really need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) yall take this from smbdy who's always sick white/yellow onion on the soles of ur feet rlly bring down fever its a v good natural remed y 2) I DONT KNOW HOW 2 DESCRIBE CHARACTERS UM?? LIKE OTHER THAN "tHE BLONDE/ALBINO/DARK HAIRED YOUNG MAN" + "THE YOUNGER/OLDER" + "THE OTHER" + "THE ITALIAN/GERMAN" + "THE SOPHOMORE/FRESHMAN/SENIOR" IDK WHAT 2 SAY HHHHHHHH  
> but thank u guys so much 4 comments + kudos i will love u forever n ever,,, also question do yall prefer slow updates/longer chapters or fast updates/shorter chapters?? hmu down below and tell me plz


	9. relating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feliks relates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't been feeling too great lately, sorry ):

Darkness. Cold air. Cold sheets. Heavy Eyelids. A fuzzy voice.

Toris strains his ears to hear it. To focus on words he can feel are important. Words he already knows are important. What makes them important? Is it who’s speaking them? Is it the instructions?

 _'I can’t hear you,’_   he tries to say, but his lips are glued shut. All he makes out is the buzz of empty static. He’s getting desperate, now. To catch even the tiniest snippet of the snapshot that was being taken right then. He needs to see just a bit of the picture to understand it’s greater meaning. He needs to know. 

Finally, something slips past the heavy fog. _“Don’t forget me.”_

He knows that voice. He could never forget that voice. _“I won’t,”_ he wants to say, but he’s already gone. Why? Why did he leave? Can’t he understand he’s nothing without him? Where will he go?

“Come back,” he whispers. “ _No,_ come back.”

It’s still not loud enough. He always told him that he had to speak more aggressively to get what he wants.

 _“No!”_ He yells, but it’s not dark anymore. It’s not cold. He feels too hot. He feels too comfortable. He doesn’t know where he is.

“Toris? Oh _my god_ , thank heavens you're finally awake!" He hears the shout from next to him, and he realizes it’s Feliks. He should be okay with Feliks, shouldn't he? A few seconds of trying to catch his breath prove that no, he isn't okay with Feliks. "W-Where am I-I?" He looks around him, straining his ears and eyes to make sure he isn’t missing anything else. Anything dangerous. He sees two people sitting on the chair across from him. Are they dangerous? Why is he here? He needs to be somewhere else. 

The air becomes thin. Anxiety grips him with its icy fingers. Why are they all staring? Did he do something? Do they know what he did? _‘Who wouldn’t? It was everywhere.’_

He tries to find comfort in the fact that at least he knows Feliks. Feliks doesn’t know. It barely helps. Feliks is probably freaked out by him, after Friday night. His eyes flitter frantically around the room, searching for a route of escape. He feels his lungs flatten, like a cockroach's.  Like the scared, helpless bug he is.  “When d-did I get h-here? W-Who are t-they?"  
  
"Wait! Before you panic, and please don't, this is the friend I mentioned, Feliciano? And that's Ludwig, his boyfriend and-"   
  
"Also my brother!"

He knows that voice! Rushing from the kitchen is Gilbert. Toris knows he’s okay with him. “Gilbert!” The Senior sits on the couch next to Toris. He immediately feels his heart rate slow.

“Yes, it is he!" 

He doesn’t know what it is about the older that calms him. Maybe it’s how easily he takes things. He doesn’t have to worry about what he says to him, or worry about being judged and scrutinized. All their conversations contain is talk about lame movie remakes and annoying professors.

He’s confident. He never worries about if anyone else cares about what he says or how they see him. Ever since Toris had spoken to him that first day in the courtyard when despite him looking like a zombie the albino had approached him, he'd wanted to be like him.

He treats him like his younger brother, which might be the strongest reason. The brunette had always longed for a tight family. Somebody who cared for him and didn't care if he was weak.

"Kid, I would say you scared me if I was any less me." Toris doesn’t flinch back when he rests his familiar palm on his head. He laughs at his badly placed joke.  
  
"I-I'm sorry, Gil," he says affectionately. Peacefully. With him there, he could at least be assured nothing bad would happen.That was a promise. "But, u-um… w-where am I?"   
  
Before the albino could answer, the Sophomore standing by the chair interrupted. "We're at Feli's and my apartment. We brought you here after you, like, _totally_ passed out earlier."   
  
"O-Oh..." He felt the nervous bubble in his chest expanding again. "S-Sorry for t-the i-interruption..." Feliks looked agitated. Was it his fault?

“It's really not that big of a problem,” the blonde started, but it sounded like a badly put together lie. “It's just-"   
  
"Gilbert, go buy some Tylenol." The small, very angry-looking man ordered. He didn't look at all like he had been described as. He looked straight at Toris. A shiver tremored through his body. He tried to tear his eyes away from who they were locked with but found the task almost impossible.

"Awwww..." Gilbert groaned, taking the money he held out. "But things just got fun!"  
  
_"Gilbert..."_ The man repeated, training his frigid gaze on the Senior instead. "10 seconds."   
  
"Geez!" He exclaimed, but slipped on his coat and sneakers anyways. Where was he going? Why was he leaving, too? Without him there something bad would definitely happen! “What is it with all these scary Freshmen ordering me around?"

The door closed with a slam. Once he left it was completely silent. If Toris was waiting for somebody to yell at him it wasn’t happening. He couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. "Toris," the other started. "I think we really need to talk.”

What had he gotten himself into?

“T-Talk?” He repeated. “A-About w-w-what?” He felt his throat constricting painfully. What could they possibly talk about? They barely knew each other.

“I don’t want you freaking out. Take two deep breaths, and maybe-“

“T-Talk about w-what?” Toris asked again. Sweat dripped down his brow. His head was pounding. Why was that stare so heavy?

“Don’t freak out! It’s just, we might’ve like-”

“On your back-”

“It was totally just an accident! We-”

“There are scars-”

“Feli, why are you so blunt?” Feliks bursts out. “He’s obviously uncomfortable!”

“What, do you want me to be all tip-toe?! Toris, do you have anything you’d like to tell us before we go any further? Would you like to confess anything? _Non, cazzate!”_

The brunette being addressed wasn’t listening, so it’s not like the Sophomore’s anger was worth it. He couldn’t even hear his own breathe over the ringing in his ears. They’d seen? _How had they seen?_ As soon as he’d gotten to university, he’d built his life around protecting his being found out. Everything he’d done, everything he’d said had been structured just to hide everything he’d done before.

He’d carefully planned out each day himself. Read hundreds of books and blogs and advice pamphlets. Most were headed with “how to move on” or “how to forget”, but Toris wanted to do neither of those. He just wanted to conceal all his mistakes until all that was left of him was the pleasant shell expected of a regular college student. It made it easier on him and everyone else, so why should he ever change it? Of _course_ his disguise had failed. Everything he ever did failed. If they’d already seen, what was the use of keeping up with all his appropriate responses and careful words?

“Toris… If you were in a hard spot, or if you are in a-“

“A-A hard s-spot?” he repeated to himself. That was comical. _A hard spot_. Everything he’d been through the past 4 years could be summed up in two words. How simple.

“Yes. A hard spot. If anybody’s hurt you, or been hurting you-“

“H-He… H-He didn’t h-hurt me.” It didn’t sound half as confident as he wanted it to. The unbelieving face in front of him reflected his foundering.

“Toris, if you're scared-“

“I-I’m not s-scared!”

Feliciano released a long sigh and then nodded his head. “Okay…” He massaged his temples and leaned bak. "Okay."

After a long period of silence, Feliks finally moved forward to talk. “So, then where did you get the scars from?”

Toris kept his eyes trained on the ground. He didn't want to say anything more.

“Okay… um, well… I- I have scars too, y’know. Would you… like to see them?” Toris looked up to a Feliks, who ground his teeth together as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. His eyes moved down to his wrist. Bracelets were moved aside to reveal pale raised skin, sitting in columns of horizontal lines.

“I-“

“It… It wasn't like I _meant_ it, or anything. I’m pretty ashamed of it, but it’s not because of what I did. It’s sorta because why I did it, I guess? I started in eighth grade, but I wasn’t really depressed. I mean I was, but like, that wasn’t why I did it.” He paused. His face twisted in discomfort. The brunette felt uneasy seeing an expression like that on somebody he had only seen happiness on.

“I just did it for… well, I did it for attention. I did it because I wanted people to care, maybe? I went around telling everyone I cut and they’d get all surprised and alarmed and worried and I’d be dramatic and all and I thought that somebody worrying about me constantly was the same thing as somebody caring about me and being my friend.

“It went on to, like, my Junior year in high school? Pretty soon enough people knew that somebody actually told the school counselor, and you know how that works, so I got called in and we had a long talk and she called my mom and dad who were all freaking out when I got home.”

Toris watched as a Feliks wiped a tear out of his eyes as nonchalantly as possible before staring at the ceiling. “And then I had an even longer talk with them and all, and they were like, ready to send me off to a mental hospital. They asked me why I did it, and I couldn’t keep pretending so I finally admitted it was just for attention. That calmed them down, I guess. They were both disappointed, though.”

Feliks finally looked back at him, shrugging and scratching his neck. “It was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life, I guess, back then. I went to a counselor and everything after that for lying and stuff. I got better, pretty much, and now I just complain a lot and be vain and stuff, which is kinda better. I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you think I'll judge you or anything, I really won’t. It would be totally stupid and unfair of me. I can’t say the same for Feli…”

“Not the _time_ , Feliks!”

“Sorry.”

Toris bit the dead skin around his thumb. They'd already seen. He couldn’t brush it off. Lying was off the table by now, more because he was horrible at it than anything else. Would he be allowed to just walk out if he wanted? A startling idea came to mind:

What if he just told them?

What if he just admitted everything and ignored his brain frantically sending signals to his jaw muscles to close his mouth? Was it really worth it to keep holding back the downpour of words flooding his throat? Would it make it any easier to breathe?

He looked around the room again. It didn’t look horrible. It didn’t feel horrible. His hair was still tied up. He had a headache, but that was only normal. _What could happen?_ he asked himself. _Nothing would happen._

“I… I-I don’t k-know h-how to s-start,” he mumbled. “I d-don’t know w-what t-to say.”

Feli straightened his back on the chair. “Anywhere is fine,” he said. “But the beginning might work best.”

Toris nodded, looking to his lap. His thumb throbbed in the spots he gnawed. He tried to think back. _When did it start? When did they meet?_ He rifled through dark rooms and cold morning until finally, he stumbled upon the scene of the crime: a snowy day in the middle of summer.

How could he possibly tell them all the important details? How could he make them see what he saw that day- the rosy nose and cheeks, the pale hair, the piercing eyes? How could he explain his voice, a high squeak back then that morphed into a deep reverberation of baritone as they grew older? How could he fit in everything he felt he had to?

He didn’t want to tell anything wrong. He didn’t want their view of him to twist just because of what he did a night years later from that first day, this first day when Toris met him, destroyed him. He couldn’t tell it wrong. The boy of his memories deserved better than that.

He took another deep breath and finally started his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you at least partially enjoyed? i don't know my past two weeks have been very,, stressful to say the last and i'm not really sure when i will update next but i won't put it under 'hiatus' unless i think my updates will span between months


	10. chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uvu the long-awaited update !1!11!1!!!!!

“Woah, woah, woah..... Are you the chef?” The man had just gotten home from work, and he wasn’t expecting to see the back of a hawt shirtless man in hiS CHRISTIAN kitchen. The man turned around, revealing his mischievE O US and look, even better: rED eyes and sec c smirk. “Ja? You must be the Roder DICK.”

The brunette’s face morphed into a confused S C OW L as he sat down his workbag on the fuzz y carpet. PUPILS followed the other’s movements v clo sely. Why had he even hired a personal chef to make a salad, anyways???????????????????????????????? 

“Where is your shirt? This is for MY WiFe!”

“Oh. I’m a nude chef…. If J e w want, I can put it back on?”

“... N-No, that’s… That’s fine.” The violeT BECAUSE THAT’S DEFINITELY AN EYE COLOR eyes trailed down to where his lower torso diss appeared into the low line of his genes, n’ his hand reached down, pullin it dowN swiftly and without thot. 'can i get uhhhhhh.... I N F E D E L IT Y???' he saidt to himslef

“Shhhhhhhh….” He whispered husky lee into the PLAE YET red ears. He inserted his pickkle into the ba gel. Gi l bert m ewled, meow meow. “Don….t make a sou nd.” He bit the ne ck. 

The door opened, as doors naturally dO, from the living room.

“HONEY IM HOE M!!!!” hungary- *sweats profusely* I Mean Elizaveta/beta called.

“ShitE--” RODerich cursed under his breath but he kept pounding those buns uvu 

She wlaked into the kitchen and sat down on one of the bar stools, looking at the bowl filled with s a lad. “Is this for me???????” She asked. “SO SWEET!!!”

“Yes, my wife, v sweet…” Rod or dick replies. She picks up the fork an starts eating but then SUSPICIOUSLY looks up. Standing, she glances over the counter.

“are-ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING????? RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD!?!@$$$$R!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> f o r gi v e m e


	11. before this (the ACTUAL chapter 10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was who they were  
> this was before it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, okay,,,
> 
> whole new year and i’m finally updating!!! thank you for reading this, if anyone is. i’m sure nobody wants to read my sob story explanation, but if you do: it’s down below!! if not, just enjoy this poorly written and edited crap!
> 
> note: non-linear timeline

He knew he was drunk, and he knew it was dark. He knew it was late and he was on Ivan’s bed, gasping into the quiet air that would've been left silent if it was any other night. He knew he was being kissed everywhere, and that he liked it. That his hands were knotted in the soft hair they'd missed touching for too long. He knew he'd never felt so good in his life. He knew he wanted more and Ivan was giving it to him.

He didn't know why.

He didn't know why that day was so different- he looked everywhere for a reason, just one, so the fraction of him that still wanted to flinch back whenever the other's fingers touched his skin could shut off.

It terrified him, the way he melted into his embrace. After the bruises and cuts and scars, he still yearned for the way he fit perfectly against him. He told himself he was just being forgiving- that Ivan deserved his forgiveness as many times as he needed it, and he’d keep giving it out like cheap Halloween candy even when the kid at the door said “trick.”

Maybe this was his reward for it all, he reasoned. This was his karma finally looping back around and coming back his way, and that’s why everything was going so perfectly. That’s what he thought, anyway, laying there on top of Ivan and letting the waves of belonging and possession wash over him. This was how things were supposed to be- him in an oversized t-shirt that wasn’t his, laying on top of something warm. It was perfect- until Ivan muttered a few words.

“I have to go,” he said. But it sounded final. It sounded final, and to make it worse he didn’t even have the chance to debate before he was cut off.

“I can’t see you anymore, every day,” he continued, and for the first time in years, he looked up instead of looking down to the other. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

At first, Toris laughed. Just the notion of Ivan leaving - Ivan who’d he known for 8 years and Ivan who he loved (or was it Ivan that had faked for almost half those years and Ivan who he was forced to love?) - was hilarious. He didn’t want to think about it any longer than he had to. It wasn’t worth his brain space. "Shut up," he'd said, laying his head back on the pillow.

“No, Toris, I have to go,” Ivan repeated, sitting up on the bed and begging to clench and unclench his fists. Emotions flashed across his face- but the brunette had no idea what they were. He used to know, when they were younger, but he hadn’t seen the muscles move into anything other than a glare in so long that it was hard to name much else. “I’m sick of this- of this stupidity. It’s a retarded game and I have better things to do, and school is over now so I’m moving and you’re not coming with me.”

“I-Ivan-” Toris started but never finished. There was too much to say that he didn't have the time for, too many things to convey through flimsy words. He only placed a hand on his cheek and shook his head. The Russian teen stood up and moved away from him, began pacing around his room. He pulled at his hair, looking angry but making no move to avenge at his emotional expense.

Toris jumped up after him, following him back and forth across the room like they were on a broken treadmill. “I-Ivan, I-I’m not l-letting you l-leave!” He exclaimed. His heart was beating in his chest again, and he felt the spiny edge of anxiety creeping back up upon him. The ceiling felt too short for all his panic.

“Yes, I am!” Ivan hollered, flipping around and gripping him by his shoulders. Toris was almost happy when he put his hands up in defense. This was something he was familiar and comfortable with. When no hit came, he opened his eyes again and was faced with red, bleary ones.

“You’re frightened by me,” he whispered. “You’re terrified because you know that at any specific moment I could snap and decide to crush you like a bothersome roach.”

“T-That’s not tr-tr-true!” Toris protested, but his shaking fingers proved otherwise. “H-Hit me!” He urged, grabbing and tugging at Ivan’s hand. “Hit me a-and I’ll prove i-i-it!”

Ivan shook his head and turned away, trying to tug his body member out of the Lithuanian’s loose grasp. “Stop,” he muttered, voice suddenly eight times throatier. His pale cheeks flushed as he struggled to keep his eyes closed. “Let go of me, Toris.”

“I won’t let go of you!” Toris screamed, and too many tears were let out at once. “I-I’ll just stay here the rest of my life!”

“No, you won’t,” Ivan replied, struggling to put on a bittersweet smile. “Don't make promises you can't keep.”

“What?” Toris asked, absolutely dumbfounded as Ivan took a few papers out of his pocket like they would explain everything. He started to feel sick.

“People don’t get passports for nothing,” he replied.

“Ivan-”

“It leaves tomorrow at 2 pm, from Moscow Airport, and-”

“Y-You’re crazy!” Toris interrupted, grabbing the page of information and darting his eyes over all the words that he couldn’t compute. Words like “one way” and “United Airlines” and “foreign” and his name, smack dab in the middle of it. His passport picture that he’d taken a few months ago for travel he promised himself he’d never do.

“T-This isn’t- I-It’s n-not- T-This is fake!” He had said, but it was weak and quiet. How dare he, he thought. Ivan couldn’t just ship him away like an unwanted package. Was it even legal? It couldn’t be legal! He hadn’t even known it was happening.

“You’re getting on that flight.”

“No, I’m not!” Toris had tried to shout, but it sounded more terrified than anything.“You can’t make me do anything!”

“You have a bank account already, and I have a friend of a friend, who-” Ivan started, but was cut off.

“Ivan, I'm not!”

“Toris, it's nonrefundable,” he tried again, desperate.

“No!” Toris shouted. “No, no, n-no! I-”

“You have to leave.” His broad shoulders slumped and he finally opened his red eyes. His lip quivered- Toris watched them vibrate, and he begged them to stop with his mind, begged them to morph back into a firm unmoving line. But they didn’t, and now the whole body was shaking- like a disaster happening before his eyes.

Tears spilled from his eyes but he kept his gaze trained upwards, on the ceiling. “You have to leave, Toris. I can’t lose you too.”

And magically, a hurt 8-year-old stood before him, crying because he had fallen and hurt his knee, and now a frustrated 9-year-old, scrubbing away his tears in the bathroom mirror as he yanked out his tooth. A sad 10-year-old with liquid brimming in the corners of his eyes because he’d lost his pet lizard and couldn’t find it, then an 11-year-old who despised the water falling off his chin because it wasn't at all manly. A scared 12-year-old, sobbing into his hands and cursing to the God he didn’t believe existed anymore.

His Ivan stood in front of him- the Ivan he thought he'd lost. He was faced with a stranger, but a stranger that he knew much more than he knew Ivan. A stranger pleading with him to go, a stranger that he'd do anything for.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he cried, and their last embrace could’ve lasted as long as they wanted it to- because it burned and seared both of their bodies, burnt through their clothing and lit a match beneath their skin that’s flames ate up anything left they had.

“I love you, Ivan,” he’d whispered, trying to force himself to forget all the horrible things and stuff in all the good ones. The way his hair smelled like coffee and his soft shoulders were the warmest body member on him. The way the horrid stench of vodka smelled like peppermint on his breath. The crinkles on the back of his coat that he’d mapped out.

Toris closed his eyes, and he was back there again- back kicking the snow with the boy he’d just learned the name of. Back kicking the snow with a stranger.

“I’ll never forget you,” he’d whispered. _“I’ll never forget you.”_

 

They sat on the sidewalk, hovering over a brand new comic book held in the shorter's hands. Curious eyes scanned over strips of pictures and words, one pair wide with awed admiration and one slanted in skepticism. They'd been sitting there for almost half an hour, staring down at the thing, and the older of the boys found it to be unbearably boring.

“What's the point?" Toris finally ask, earning an incredulous frown from Ivan.

"The _point_?" He exclaims. "What do you mean, the point?"

"I mean..." The boy looks at the cracked sidewalk, mumbling to the ground. "Why does it really matter so much? It's just a fake guy who has powers."

Ivan moans, pressing his hand into his forehead. "That's not all it's about; They save people and crush their enemies. They're powerful!”

"Well-" Toris starts but isn't able to finish. His sentence is interrupted by the book in the boy next to him's hands getting snatched away. He looks up and sees a taller kid, probably a year or two older than him. A nervous hum begins in his ears; the kid practically smells of trouble.

"What's this?" He asks teasingly, sneering and flipping the comic over to its laminated front cover. "A comic book?" Instantly, Ivan is standing up, ignoring the height difference between them of almost 5 inches. Toris tries to tug him back down by the back of his jacket but is overpowered by his force.

"Yes, it is," Ivan mutters, looking straight at him. "What of it?"

"Ivan-" Toris starts again, nervously tapping his foot. "Maybe we-"

"What's 'of it'..." The boy pauses as if he likes the effect it has on them, or at least on the one still sitting. "Is that comic books are for whiny children. For pipsqueaks like you! What are you, a year three?"

The pale blonde glares and makes a grab for the book, stumbling when it's yanked up above his head. "Give it back!" He seethes, jumping again for a better try and missing short of a few centimeters. Toris stands anxiously behind him but does nothing to help. Even if he was 2 inches taller than Ivan, he doesn't have half his willpower.

"You know, I was thinking..." The boy grabs the back page of the comic and rips, tearing it off and letting it flutter to the floor. "That maybe you guys need some help getting cooler. You can be like me in Secondary School!"

"муда́к!" Ivan shouts, and before he can use the fist he's balled up by his side the brunette beside him tugs even harder, successfully grabbing his attention. "Ivan, forget him," he whispers, eyes darting carefully between the older boy and his friend. "It doesn't matter. We can buy a new one."

"Father bought me that one!"

"Aw, are you gonna go cry to your daddy, now?" The boy mocks.

"H-Hush!" Toris tries to say defiantly, but his words sound shakier than anything. He turns his attention back to his friend. "Ivan, let's go. Papa gave me ice cream money. We can go to the Marjko's."

"I can't just-"

"Please?" Toris whispers pleadingly. Ivan and he share eye contact and a silent message. His rapid breaths calm down and a wispy sigh billows out from his mouth. With one last defeated glance at his comic book, he dashes away down the bumpy road, arm pulled by Toris.

The next day, they go together to the bookstore and buy another copy.

 

Toris had never been to a funeral before. Or at least, one that he could remember.

He'd been at his mother's funeral. His aunt used to tell him the story of how even though he had been the “happiest baby in the world”, he was crying the whole time through. “You were the saddest child after that." She'd sigh. "You never laughed or smiled from that day on.”

He never remembered a second of it.

He didn't like suits at all. On Christmas Day, when he and his father went to church, he always had to wear the starchy black outfit and tie. His skin already itched in anxiety on a regular basis, and the irritating material just made it worse.

That day at church, he didn't even scratch his nose. He could only stare blankly at Ivan’s hunched back. The black caskets near the front of the room had him and what Toris guessed were a few of his relatives gathered around. His father stood near the door, speaking in a quiet voice to a business partner of his.

Ivan hadn't even talked to him during the past few days. Yesterday he had called up whispering an invitation to the somber event. Toris had instantly agreed, but later regretted it due to the fact that there would be a lot of people stuffed into a closed off room.

He had entered and sunk into a seat near the back. Ivan hadn't even seen him come in, but the brunette reasoned that it was for the best. Ivan had only invited him out of formality. He probably wouldn't want to see him for a while afterward.

All Toris could hope for was that he would be okay.

The service started.

It was comprised of bible verses and talks from aunts. The only time he really paid attention to it was when Katyusha was onstage, crying over the pulpit and wailing words Toris wished he didn't have to hear. In the middle of it, Ivan turned around abruptly and made eye contact with him. His puffy eyes were filled with sadness, and Toris finally understood what books meant when they described pupils full of emotion. He didn't turn away. The connection lasted throughout the rest of the funeral talk. Toris couldn't look away.

Hot tears fell down his face as he willed himself not to blink. He didn't know why it felt so important that he not look away, but it did. Finally, before the prayer, he couldn't take it. He wiped his dry eyes quickly.  
  
When he looked up, Ivan had turned away.

After the funeral, the emotion was gone. All Toris could find when he searched through them was fog.

 

“Hello,” Ivan said. Before the other could reply, he continued speaking. “I haven’t seen you in awhile, so I haven’t been able to tell you. I lost a tooth Saturday.” He opened his mouth and pointed at the space where one of his canines should be.

“Oh,” Toris said dumbly. He blinked at the empty expanse of gum, where a white nub belonging to the growing tooth sat, but said nothing else.

“You said you didn’t speak Russian. Then how'd you understand me?"

“I don’t, really. Not very good.” He wasn’t very good with conversations, either.

“... But your dad does?”

“Yes," he replied.

“That’s weird,” Ivan stated, kicking a pinecone across the street. He started walking in the direction of the neighborhood park and watched from the corner of his eye as Toris trailed behind. “Why is that?”

“I lived with my aunt,” the taller-by-an-inch shrugged, kicking the same pinecone. “I speak Lithuanian.”

“Even _weirder_! My dad says the Baltics are where sissies come from! Are you a sissy?”

Toris shrugged again, forcing his hand to stop quivering. “I don’t know.”

They kept walking, kicking the pinecone among each other until they reached the park. They sat down on the two swings, holding onto the chains. Their feet swung beneath them as they soared up and down into the air.

“I should teach you how to speak Russian.” Ivan declared finally. “Maybe then you won’t be so sissy!”

Toris stopped his swing and looked at him cautiously. “Are you joking?” He asked, scrunching up his nose.

“No!” Ivan insisted, swinging with even more vigor. “I’ll make you a pro! When school starts, all we’ll ever do is talk, and it’ll be in perfect Russian!”

Toris joined him in the swaying and looked over in hesitant excitement. “Really?”

“Yes!” Ivan repeated. “Kat always says I'm the best teacher! We’ll meet here every Monday and Wednesday! Yes?”

“O-Okay!”

“If you’re late, you have to… do 10 pull-ups on the monkey bars!”

“10?”

“10!”

“Okay!” Toris cheered into the cold air.

“Okay!” Ivan shouted after him, breath billowing out in the air afront. The sound of two boy’s childish declaration to the park and the trees bounced off the plastic play equipment.

 

  
Toris stood waiting outside on the doorstep. He wrung his hands together nervously, trying to hold them back from ringing the doorbell a fifth time. The sweat on his neck froze against the cool wind. The cut on the bridge of his nose stung in exposure.

When the door finally swung open it revealed a distressed looking Katyusha. Her eyes were red and hosted dark circles underneath them.

“Toris!” She exclaimed, voice relieved but in a watery-panickish way. She must have been much more tired than she looked, because when she hugged him the teen almost fell backward with her weight. He probably would’ve, if she hadn’t lost so much.

She pulled away suddenly, as if his touch stang, then ushered him inside the house. She quickly shut the door and pressed her back against it, breathing like she'd just run a marathon.

“A-Are you okay? W-We don't h-have to-”

“No, no, I want to. In case- In case he-” Her voice cracked and she dragged her shaking hands over her face again. Toris felt bile rising in his throat.

“H-He's not, Kat.”

“You're right. The police said that kids do this all the time, especially males. That I shouldn't be worried. But he's been gone for a month and a half now, and if something's happened-”

“It w-wouldn't be y-your fault,” Toris said firmly. She shook her head and began crying all over again.

“I can't take it! I have to work- the power went off the other day! Natalia’s staying with her aunt until I'm sure I'm fit to watch her. She must be confused! And Ivan, wherever he is, is cold and alone, and maybe even hungry. I can't do it.”

“Kat…” Toris moved forward to hug her again.

They swayed like winter trees in the wind through their embrace. They were the only ones in the world who could relate as deeply as they were with each other. Their branches were stripped bare. With the slightest weight, they could break.

 

“Hey, Ivan,” Toris said suddenly one day as they were studying their algebra. He stared at the ceiling. The boy looked up from the algebra paper he was trying to complete, face a mural of absolute boredom. “Yeah?” He asked, voice sounding indifferent like most days.

They'd been advised by their language teacher that talking at home what they'd been learning at school would aide in their class progression by ten, so most of their conversations of late had been in broken English.

He doesn't know what pushed him to say it. Maybe it was because he had drunk a bit of the grain vodka Ivan had stolen from his parents’ cupboard. He'd never had more than a sip of any liquor other than champagne. “Do you- Will you kiss me?”

“What?” Ivan hissed in confused Russian, putting down his notebook and whipping around to face him. “What’d you just say?”

Toris, having no fallback plan except for deciding to be completely quiet, realized a few seconds too late that that wouldn't cut it.

His throat tightened. The nervous knot in his stomach began to expand, but something near the front of his brain loosened it back up. He half started to wish he hadn't said anything at all and half that he'd shouted it from the rooftops.

“Nothing, I think,” he mumbled to the cover, but his brow crinkled. The clean-cut features of the room around him took a softer tinge to itself. He looked up at the ceiling, instead, but even that was blurry. He looked back to Ivan, who stared at him intently.

He could drown in those eyes, he thought. He could swim and dive and willingly give it up all for the high of being as close as possible to the endless pools of violet blue. He would give anything to be near to them.

“Hey, why are you so close?” He heard the voice ask, much closer to his ear than before. He shrugged, brought up an arm to rest on the taller’s shoulder.

Had he ever seen himself in this position? Since they’d been friends, he didn’t think there was anything strange about them. They were just normal friends. Toris and Ivan, Ivan and Toris, saying stupid things and doing the even stupider. He had no reason to think of them as any different, but still- when he really looked into things, really thought of their relationship and what it was, he could tell something was off kilter.

He liked his other friends, to, but did he like them enough to waste his nights dreaming of them or his days thinking of him or his study time staring at them.

“I don't think it's nothing, Ivan.”

His stomach churned painfully. His face felt hot.

“What do you mean?”

“Y-You'd laugh!” Toris’ regular vocal patterns broke through the veil of tipsiness. His lips suddenly quivered and warm tears rose up to his eyes.

“I wouldn't,” Ivan said. “I just want to know.”

An amazing thing happened, then- The other’s hand reached up to touch his shoulder, too. The nervous green eyes met their opposite. His thoughts found a sudden clarity.

“ _Aš tave myliu,_ ” he'd gasped, relieved to let the unknown words out. Toris had been trying to keep up his English speaking, but the only language he could find the true meaning of the words in was his own.

“What?” Ivan asked, crinkling his eyebrows.

Toris pulled forward and kissed him. Or at least, what he meant to be ‘him’ but was actually the other's lower lip and chin. When he pulled away after barely half a second, Ivan stared for a while before shaking his head.

“That was supposed to be a _kiss_?” He asked quizzically.

“W-Well, yes, b-but-”

Ivan pulled him in again, wet lips wrapping around his and pushing his head forward. His upper torso pressed against the slimmer’s until he fell back onto the bed. All Toris could think was ‘ _oh_ ,’ and ‘ _good_.’ His back bent slightly and he pushed up, trying to deepen the kiss. Ivan moved back.

“You kiss like a girl,” he said, and Toris' face fell.

“I-I've never… I'm s- sorr-”

“Wanna do it again?”

  
They were walking home from school. Ivan brandished a shiny and laminated detention slip for saying a curse in front of the English teacher. Toris was trying to memorize his social studies notes when Ivan came to an abrupt stop in front of him.

The brunette looked up from his paper and almost threw up at the sight in front of him. A brown tabby cat lay stiff on the side of the road, guts spread out around its body. It's milky green eyes stared off into nowhere. Flies buzzed around it's torn stomach area.

The green-eyed teenager turned back around. He placed a hand over his mouth and gagged. His stomach tightened in disgust. “Ivan, l-let's-” he started, but was baffled to turn around and see him crouched by the dead animal.

“W-What are y-you doing?!” He asked softly, taken off guard.

“Isn't it beautiful?” The younger whispered. His eyes were trained on its frigid face.

“What? I-It’s r-roadkill!”

“It's peaceful. It doesn't have to worry about anything.”

Toris tried to focus on the way his eyelashes guarded his actual irises. He wasn't sure he wanted to see his eyes right then.

“Ivan… W-We need t-to go. K-Kat’s probably w-worried about us, and-”

“Kat’s always worried. She was worried before our parents died and now she's worried even more. Sometimes I wish she was dead, too.”

Toris gasped. “You d-don’t!”

Ivan looked up from the ground. Their eyes locked. “Don't I?” He asked.

“You’d miss h-her,” he said weakly. Would he?

“Then I'd die, too.”

“Stop!” Toris hissed. He felt a headache start to creep up to his temples. Ivan shrugged and stood up, brushing off his jeans. “Okay,” he said.

 

Their fourth year started in September.

The brunette was hunched by their bus stop, clutching his school pack and staring at the sludgy ground. His lip was curved down in a miserable line. Where was Ivan? He said he’d be there by 6:48. It was 6:55. Would he ever come?

“Toris!” He turned in the direction of the call and relief spread across his face. “Ivan,” he sighed. “I thought you wouldn’t show!”

“You worry like the oldest man I know!” The blonde moaned, removing his scarf and stuffing it into his bag. “Mother wouldn’t leave me alone. She kept telling me to put on warmer clothes! I had to change 3 whole times.”

Toris nodded, leg kicking in the snow like it always did. “Are you excited about school?” Ivan asked, taking out a yo-yo and twisting it around his fingers. Toris shrugged.

“Well,” he started, looking down at his hands. He rubbed his cheek absently, remembering the sting of the slap that morning. “Papa said I should stop being nervous and just face it already.”

“Are you nervous?” Ivan asked, instead.

“A little," he replied, watching the string spin around Ivan's fingers.

“Well, you shouldn’t be. Even if we don’t have the same teacher, I’ll see you at recess," Ivan, noticing Toris' stare from the corner of his eyes, attempted a cool trick he had just learned the day before. "I won’t let anybody hurt you. We’re friends, you know. Even if you’re a sissy.”

“Friends?” The brunette asked, looking up from the toy.

“Stop repeating my words! Are you trying to secretly brag about your pronunciation?”

“Not at a-ll,” Toris dragged out after a moment's pause, a coy smile bursting upon his face. Ivan pushed his arm and shook his head.

“Go suck off your father!” He joked, walking onto the bus that stopped in front of them a couple of seconds later. They sat next to each other.

  
There was a knock on the door. Toris grumbled and turned over in his bed. He might've gotten up to check during the daytime, but since his alarm clock read close to 1 am he didn't think much of it. It was probably one of his dad’s girlfriends, he thought, irritated. He closed his eyes again.

He didn't hear his door open or feel a weight next to him on the mattress, but a familiar scent wafted through his nostrils. He turned back around and rubbed his eyes furiously.

“Ivan?” He whispered, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “W-What are y-y-you doing h-here?”

The Russian teen didn't answer. Toris was startled to realize that sobs were emitting from his mouth, bouncing off the high ceilings and back. He felt cold pricks near the back of his neck.  
  
Ivan never cried.

Well. He did, when he was younger, but not now. It was a fact of their friendship and anybody else's with him. Nothing ever made him cry. Even when he broke his arm and leg in the sixth year, all he let out was an agitated sigh.

He'd never even thought Ivan could cry- well, of course, he could. He'd seen it happen, but that was 3 years ago. Everybody cried, now. Just not Ivan.

He didn't know what to do. His tears could've been pretty, but all they did right that moment was scare him. His cheeks matched bright red along with his nose. Snot spanned the space of his upper lip to his chin. Toris was glad his eyes were closed, because otherwise the pain he could find would be unforgettable.

He kept crying. A minute passed, and then another. Toris started to panic. Why had his father just let him in without a message?

“Ivan, what's w-wrong?”

When he spoke, his voice was bare. Toris had never heard him sound so shaky.

“My mom, my mom, she- she was in the kitchen, we were in the kitchen. Dad was at the table, and-” He choked over his words.

“There was _blood_! There was blood on the floors!”

“I-Ivan, I-I don't th-think tha-”

“Katyusha kept screaming. She screamed and grabbed Nat and called 911- The closet was cold and the people, they came later and took them and Kat brought me over here, I- I don't want to be here!”

“I-Ivan, calm d-down! I-I don't understand!” Toris was on the brink of tears at that point, too. His confusion manifested into hysteria. He held his cold hand and squeezed. “B-Breathe, Ivan, breathe.”

“Y-You don't know, you don't understand!”

“Help m-me u-understand!”

“They're not coming back, Toris! They aren't coming back!” His voice was octaves higher than it usually was. His shoulders shook with the rest of his body.

Toris took a few deep breaths while the boy next to him lost his. What could he say right then? He decided he couldn’t just sit there. He held the pale cheeks in his, pressing his forehead against the sweaty one in front of his.

“Ivan, y-you're okay,” he whispered.

The pale blonde did something the older never thought he would- he buried his nose in the space between Toris’ neck and shoulder. His tears wet the skin there, but the only thing the teen could think to mind was the constant pattern he was trying to keep up with running his fingers through Ivan’s hair.

“You're okay,” he repeated, fighting the own tremor in his tone. He struggled to smooth out the bumps and stutters begging to be acknowledged.

“I'll always be here.”

He loved looking back and realizing he was lying through his teeth.

  
"My mom invited you over for dinner," Ivan said, throwing up a ball and catching it as they walked the track. Toris walked next to him, watching his feet step in front of one another.

"W-What?” The Lithuanian asked.

"Mom. Invited. You. Over. For. Dinner." Ivan repeated, throwing the ball to him.

Toris let it pass by him and blinked. “Oh.”

‘Are you coming? We're having pot roast.”

He shrugged. He hadn't had a pot roast in ages. Didn't he like pot roast? He tried to ignore the voice in his head telling him that no, if he had to be around unfamiliar and therefore, scary, people, he didn't like pot roast at all. He gritted his teeth and repeated “I love pot roast” in his head in attempts to drive it off.

“Okay,” he replied.

“It's so nice to finally meet you!” A polite voice greeted, but Toris didn't look up from the floor. He tried to keep his lip from quivering. He couldn't open his mouth to respond.

It had been a growing problem of his for months, now. If not already, the fact that his social interactions were getting worse was becoming increasingly evident. Ivan had asked about it multiple times, suggesting his father take him to a speech therapist. Since they were in Grade 7, they would begin taking their mandatory English classes. They’d be hard to learn if he could barely speak at all, Ivan reasoned. Toris shrugged and promised he would, which was a blatant lie. His father could care less.

He felt a bump on his side. Ivan and he made eye contact, and he was finally able to say something. “H-Hello.”

“Come in, please! I'll take your coats. Ivan can take you to the living room,” the woman said. Toris looked up for a glance, catching ruby lips and a large smile.

When they got into the living room the first thing he noticed was the scent. It smelled like flowers, robust and sweet. He hoped he didn't look like a rabbit, sniffing his nose twice every second and lifting his head. He couldn't find where it was coming from, either, but everything felt less foreign than it had. It smelled like Ivan.

The second thing he noticed was the people. There were two girls sitting on the floor. One was a blonde with a bob cut who sat with her back on the armrest. She must have been in Grade 11 or farther because of her bust size, so Toris identified her as Katyusha. It would be dumb not to, considering all the times his friend talked about his sisters. She looked like Ivan, too. Bright eyes, and pale hair. If these similarities to him were all the house was filled with, then the brunette could definitely learn to like it there.

She sat behind a much smaller girl who was looking at him from the floor as her hair was braided. Natalia, he guessed. She couldn't have been older than 8. Her eyes were alarmingly cold for somebody her age.

“Who are you?” She asked.

Kat, who had still been braiding her hair in blissful unawareness finally looked up, face breaking out into a giddy smile. “Ivan brought a friend?! Hello!”

Ivan elbowed him after he didn't respond (again.) “H-Hello…”

Before he knew it, Toris’ face was being pressed into warm skin and arms wrapped around his back in the tightest embrace he’d felt in years. “So cute! Ivy talks about you all the time. I'm so happy to finally meet you.”

He felt his cheeks burn. “He does?” He asked, deciding he sounded a bit too hopeful. That's what friends did. Why'd it matter?

“Kat, shush!” Ivan groaned from next to him.

“Aw, but it’s true! He-”

Toris felt a tug on his pants and looked down to see Natalia glaring up at him. “Who are you?” She asked again. Before he could even stutter a syllable out she moved over to Ivan and hugged his leg. Despite her older brother trying to shake her off, she kept holding on tight.

Toris still smiled. He loved younger kids, even if she was a little weird. “I'm Toris, Ivan's friend from school. We-”

She cut him off with, “Toris is an ugly name.” Toris, taken aback but not undeterred, shrugged and nodded. “I think so, too. Your name is much prettier.”

Natalia, looking satisfied enough with herself nodded and finally let go of Ivans' leg. “It means Christmas Day.”

“Does it? How beautiful.”

She nodded proudly. “It is, isn't it?” She moved to sit back down, her job done for now. Ivan stared at him like he was a saint.

Katyusha sighed and gave an apologetic nod. “Well… I'm still very glad you could come. What do you like doing?”

“Well, I-I like reading. And I r-really like to draw.” He fiddled with his thumbs and cast his eyes down as he talked. Ivan, standing next to him yawned and checked the wall clock.

“Yeah? Are you thinking of entering in the art comp this year?”

“Oh, no! I'm not t-that good," Toris, looking up from his lap, was encouraged by the interested grin on the other's face to say a bit more. "I just do it f-for fun.”

The girl smiled brighter. “I'm sure that's a lie. Ivan says you-”

“Kat, stop!” Ivan groaned. Giving another apologetic grin, the blonde went back to braiding her younger sister's hair. “Okay, okay. You know, I was thinking-”

Toris eventually sat on the ground and tuned the peppy voice out. Ivan sat next to him, groaning occasionally as if Katyusha really was that annoying.

From that day on, whenever he had the chance he'd visit the family. He even let Katyusha braid his hair once in awhile.

Ivan’s mom gave warm hugs, and his father always complimented him on his art that he sometimes brang over. Natalia gave him her least favorite stuffy. Best of all, he got to sit next to Ivan on the couch, thighs brushing as they stared at the t.v. It smelled good. It was always warm.

Toris wished that it was his life.

  
Toris didn't talk to him much anymore, only walked next to him like a loyal dog. Ivan never even thought about waiting to see Toris in the hallway after he got out of class. He only walked to his classes and let the shorter catch up.

He went outside for lunch, which was about the only time he uttered a word from his mouth. Even then, they were cold and straight to the point. He never looked up from his lunchbox. It was a torturing routine for the brunette, but he didn't complain. Just fidgeted and cleared his throat and melted into his pillow when he got home.

One day was particularly cold. Of course, every day was cold. It didn't really get warm in the springtime, but Toris did remember that it was impossibly cold. He couldn't stop shivering that day. His teeth chattered when he tried to speak. Of course, that's what he remembers. It might not be the truth at all. It could just be his mind adding horrible details to a horrible event.

Anyways, they sat there, as always, eating their respective lunches. Ivan even offered him some chips, which rarely happened anymore.

“T-Tha-Thank y-you,” he was able to choke out, then quickly wiped his eyes with his arm so more tears wouldn't fall. He'd been crying a lot, lately.

“Mm,” Ivan replied. Then, even more startling, looked up from his lunch box and behind Toris. He never looked up. When the brunette followed his gaze, his stomach churned. Standing smoking a cigarette, an eleventh year that was infamously known as “Clifford” at their school stood near the stairway door.

He had short, fiery red hair that sat upon his head like a stiff carpet. He was unusually tall, maybe about 6”4’. His ears were large and red, looking as if his creator had just plopped a random pair on and then sent him out the door as a cruel joke. Freckles adorned his face along with an uncountable number of scars that he claimed, and that everybody believed, were from street fights.

He didn't just get his nickname from appearance. He bragged to everyone that he was so tough as a baby, the real reason his mother died from childbirth wasn't from natural causes but because he kicked so hard she bled to death. He says the brown-red looking shirts he wears are that color because they're dyed from blood.

“Hello, fathersuckers. How are you all today?”

Ivan glared but looked back to his lap, eating another chip. Toris held one hand with his other so it'd stop shaking.

“Clifford” was a terrifying figure. Since the fifth year, there had been rumors going around of various deeds he's done. One of them claimed that for initiation into the Skinknots, a local gang that almost everybody in their school knew about, he'd not only shot the old woman he was supposed to but additionally killed her husband, their three grandkids, and their two dogs. People even say he picked his teeth with the bones.

Of course, Toris isn't sure if every bit of the story is credible, but he's sure it could be. One thing about Clifford he is sure about is that he doesn't want to be alone with him. What he remembers about the teen was how he used to pull his hair, hard, each time Toris passed to go to the bathroom. Another was how he stuck out his leg to trip him when he walked by in the lunchroom, or tapped his arm and waited till he jumped around before tapping the other. Those were common school-jerk acts. Others weren't.

The most memorable was near the beginning of his eighth year. Clifford had been harassing girls since forever; when told to the principal, he just advised they brush it off. The brunette remembered finding one of his close friends crying because of him, and even though he comforted her the best he could, he couldn't understand what she felt like because it had never happened to him. When he explained his feelings to Ivan, the other shrugged and told him that it had happened a lot to Katyusha. That all she had done was brush it off.

A few days later when he was late to class, he'd stumbled over his feet and dropped his pencil. Hurrying to pick it up, he dropped to his knees and put it into his bag again. He was horrified to feel the pressure of a slap on his backside. His face felt warm and he struggled to turn around. All he faced was the back of somebody walking away and a call of “Nice ass, dog!” down the hallway. He knew it was Clifford, and felt a sudden pang of sympathy for his friend and Kat and any other girl- which might as well have been the whole school's female population- that had felt this way.

So obviously he shivered and shifted under the cold, slightly familiar (why was it familiar to him? Who had he received such a hard look from recently?) gaze.

“H-Hello,” Toris whispered, as carefully as he could, embarrassed and scared all over again. A puff of smoke made its way into his face. He coughed and waved it away.

“How are you doing, sweetcheeks?” The teen asked, sneering as if he'd just told the best joke. Ivan looked up from next to him.

“What do you want, asshole?”

The redhead’s grin grew even wider and he stepped to stand in front of the Russian with long strides. He crouched down to speak. “Hello, Ivan.”

The aforementioned grunted and stood up, succeeding him by an inch. Disgust adorned his features. “What do you want?” He repeated.

“You know, I heard from a little birdie that you have something that belongs to me.”

Ivan’s eyes narrowed into icy slits. His hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out something Toris couldn't spot. From the 'click' that sounded when he slid it up, though, he had a good enough idea. His face paled.

“I have nothing for you,” Ivan spat.

“I think you do,” Clifford hummed, then added. “ _Cobra_.”

“Get from my sight!”

“You’re not thinking rationally, of course. I understand that. By the way, I never got to give my condolences." His dead smile curved higher. "Sorry about your parents. How's your sister, by the way? I-”

Ivan’s chapped lips curled. “This is my last warning. Leave my sister _alone_! If her name so much as leaves your lips, you're _dead_. I'll kill you.” Toris felt needles pricking at his chest. He'd never witnessed such a chilling exchange. Nobody's voice was raised, but all the intensity of the loudest argument he'd heard was still there. He could only sit and watch.

“Oh, you mean..." Clifford paused, casually crushing his cigarette butt into the concrete ground and looking to the sky, as if in deep thought. " _Katyusha_ , right?”

The sound of a wet crack filled the air. Clifford’s head snapped back and blood began gushing from his nose. Toris covered his eyes. Blood. Thunder.

Ivan didn't so much as look back before grabbing Toris shoulder and dragging him down the roof stairs. “Let's go,” he muttered.  
  
They went.

  
He'd learned to sit in a guarded position already. Sometimes, if not frozen in place, he even had the time to be standing up by the time his bedroom door slammed open.

His father used to at least talk. Used to list out to him the things he did earlier that day that he hadn’t liked. His attitude over the week and how bad it had gotten. Like he had to justify himself, to grind into his son's young mind that he deserved it. Now he didn’t say anything.

Toris told himself that if he really wanted to, if he really felt like it, he could say fuck you to his father’s smug face, fuck you because I don’t think I deserve this at all, because I know I don’t. Fuck you, because I’m always going to be a better human being than you and because you never broke me.

But secretly, deep down somewhere he didn’t want to search for, he knew he’d never fight back. He knew that all he’d ever do was run away.

Sometimes, afterward, he’d walk himself across the street to Ivan’s and climb up the flimsy tree near his window that really wasn’t made for any kind of weight. The window was always cracked open, and the teenager liked to think that it was for him even if it wasn’t.

By then, most of the time, Ivan was already asleep. Sometimes he turned around and squinted his eyes up at him, giving a single look of disappointment and closing his eyes back. Specific nights, if he was in any mood at all other than his default, he'd even wrap his arm around his waist. Lately, he wasn't there at all.

One night, laying there in Ivan’s bed, Toris decided that he didn't want to do it anymore. The feeling crashed upon him like the last violent wave of a continuous series of them. It swept him off his feet, left him gasping for air. Drowning in the realization that the way he'd been living for 7 years wasn't the right one.

“Ivan,” he said to the quiet air. “I'm g-going to r-run away.”

Ivan didn’t even turn around to face his way. “No you’re not,” he sighed, nuzzling his face into his pillow. “You never do.”

“I a-am this time!” Toris insisted, curling his fists into the bedsheets. His face was bright red. The unfamiliar feeling of rage gathered in his chest, stealing his breath and suffocating him in all its overwhelming force.

“You're not,” Ivan repeated. “Calm down.”

“D-Don't tell me-!”

Ivan sat up in his bed. Toris didn’t initially feel the slap. He did in a detached sort of way, but that wasn't how he knew what the stinging on his cheek a few seconds later was. He heard it more than anything. How it echoed off the walls like any normal sound would. He was stunned.

Ivan had never slapped him before- kissed him roughly, yes, and pulled his hair, and spoken harsh words. But never slapped him. When the brunette looked up to find remorse in his eyes, all he saw was cold anger. It sounded like a lion’s roar when he spoke. “Don't raise your voice! Stop being a child.”

Toris was baffled, eyes wide and scared. “I-Ivan-” He started, choking over words that he didn't want to form. “Y-Y-You-”

“You have to grow up! Go to sleep or go home, Toris.” The Russian laid back down. “I have things to do tomorrow.”

Toris’ lips wouldn't part to say what he wanted. He laid down.

 

“I-Ivan, it's b-been nine d-days.”

The room he stood in the doorway of was dark and cold. The window's blinds were screwed shut. Clothes were strewn over the floor, probably having been sitting there for days.

“Go away, Toris," a body mumbled. He refused to give him a name. This wasn't Ivan- messy hair and tired eyes and stiff shoulders. This wasn't his Ivan.

“K-Kat is v-very worried for you. I-I am too. Please-”

“Leave me alone!” The other ordered.

Toris ignored him. “Ivan,” he whispered, but it was more to the air than anybody. The air was more Ivan than anything else in the room. “I'm scared. “

The teen made a noise in the back of his throat and threw the cover over his head. “Everyone is.”

 

"I'm 11 tomorrow," Toris says to his thumbs, barely heard over the roar of the other children on the playground. Unfortunate for him, over the past year Ivan's begun training his ears to hear quiet words like his. He looks up from the sticks he's trying to set on fire, eyebrows high on his forehead. "You didn't tell me! How will I get you a present?"

"I don't really want a present," he says. "I just... would you-" The rest of what he says is too quiet even for Ivan.

"What?" He asks again.

"If you wanted to come to my... my house? It won't be-"

"Are you stupid? Of course, I want to come!"

Toris sighs in relief, but his eyebrows furrow back eventually. "My house isn't that cool. I'm not sure if it will be much fun, either."

Ivan shrugs, giving his attention back to his sticks. "So what? It's not like I do anything on Saturdays, anyway."

Saturday afternoon, Ivan knocks on Toris' door, carrying a box and ignoring his sister and mother as they wave from the doorstep and tell him to have fun. After a few seconds, Toris answers, smile twitching nervously. "Y-You actually came?"

"Duh!" Ivan sighs, shaking his head. "Can I come in? It's cold."

Toris nods instantly, stepping aside and trying not to shake himself to death.

The first thing Ivan notices about his house is that it is big; or at least, it seems bigger than his because of how empty it is inside. Aside from the recliner, television, couch, and table, the living room space is empty. It's a stark comparison to his family's house. There are chairs strewn about, about 3 different couch throws sown by Katyusha, and an always abundant spot for things on the floor. Carpets adorn the hardwood as if they came with the original design.

If Toris was anybody else, Ivan might've said something pointing the fact out. But Toris isn't somebody else, so he just follows him upstairs and to his room. There aren't any pictures on the walls. Everything is spotless. It's much colder than his house. When they get to his room, he's surprised of how different it is from the rest of the house.

"This is yours?"

"Y-Yeah," Toris responds, looking to the ground.

The walls are a light shade of green. Hung on the one closest to them, a poster with white block letters reads, "Curie gave the Cure," a black and white picture of Marie Curie underneath. Next to that, a watercolor painting of a shark hangs from a nail. On the ceiling above his bed, nine spheres sway in the air, varying in size and color.

"The planets! And Pluto!" The brunette explains, face an unnatural shade of red.

Next to his bed, a picture sits flat over the wood of his drawer.

"It's my mom,” Toris murmurs.

Ivan stares a little closer. She was pretty, really. Long brown locks of hair framed her face, the same shade as her eyes; warm and wide and kind. He has no doubt that it was Toris’ mother. Her red nose complimented her features more than it worsened them. She stood in front of a snowy bush wearing a light brown sweater and large jeans. One of her hands held a cup while the other was placed on her round stomach. Her bright gaze was trained at the corner of the picture, probably at whoever was taking it.

”She was beautiful,” Ivan whispers, startled to find that his throat tries to close up around the words. He doesn't know why he feels such a strong sadness knowing she's dead. He hadn’t even met her before. Yet, still, she reminds Ivan of Toris so much that he has to turn around and make sure the boy is still there.

”I know,” Toris says.

After a minute of silence and one final look towards the capture, the platinum blonde finally turns around. “Well... Anyways, I bought a present for you.”

”Is that what the box is for?" Toris asks, gaze switching to the crudely wrapped cube in his hands. Ivan nods and sticks it out in front of him.

“It's not much."

The barely taller (the height difference throughout the years had gotten much smaller, as Toris was beginning to stop growing and Ivan had just started. It wouldn't be but a few months until the younger would be taller) takes the box from him and looks down at it, shaking it with (what the Russian hoped was) excitement. It was like 2 minutes ago hadn't even happened. "I haven't gotten a gift in a long time," he explains, sitting on his bed and tracing the places where the tape and wrapping paper gave away to cardboard.

"Then hurry up and open it," Ivan urges, sitting next to him.

Toris scratches at the paper, tearing a corner away until all of it comes off. He opens the top, reaching in and pulling out the first thing he found. “Gloves?” He askes, looking at the knit pair in interest. On the back of the left one were his name and a smiley face.

“Yeah,” Ivan responds. “You can throw them away or something. Kat forced me to make them. They’re hand-knit. She wanted me to add a heart, but that was weird.”

”Yeah,” Toris agrees, choosing not to mention that he would've loved a heart and that he'd already decided to keep them. Instead, he just slides them into his drawer and reaches back into the bag. Next, he pulls out an action figure with a shield held close to its body.

"What's this?"

"I don't know. I couldn't think of anything to give you."

The older looks at his blue and red bodysuit and silver-star shield. "What's his name?" He asks.

"Captain America. He's the lamest hero of them all, but he was the first action figure I got,” Ivan explains, deciding to leave out the fact that he actually quite admired the character.

Toris nods and sits it on his dresser. "Thank you," he says, but Ivan just waves him away. "Hurry up. I wanna play tag outside."

The last item in the box is a black book with a blank cover. Toris flips through the blank white pages, eyebrows rising with each one they passed.

"You got me a sketchbook?" He breathes.

"You're always drawing," Ivan mutters. The first page of the book was filled with letters. Before Toris can read them, Ivan stands abruptly and clears his throat. "I want to go outside now. Come on!" Before Toris can disagree, Ivan pulls him up by his wrist and out his bedroom door.

Later, after Ivan leaves with a 'stay as cool as you can!' Toris opens to the first page again, reading over the letter with a budding grin.

  
“I-Ivan, is th-that a g-g-gun?”

The question was spilled into the empty air of the room, making it all the more powerful.

His eyes were trained on the temporarily frozen taller teen. He had just taken off his coat and reached into his pocket to take something out. By chance, the Lithuanian teen had glanced up from his homework at that moment and caught the flash of the weapon. His throat was dry.

“Don't worry about it,” was all Ivan responded with, shoving it behind a picture on his shelf.

He'd been increasingly secretive lately, wearing all brown and black and sneaking out late. Toris sometimes watched from his bedroom window as he slipped out the door and walked towards the city. Sometimes he'd get into a car near the end of the block, and Toris couldn't tell which of the smoke was from the engine and which of it was leaking from the cracked windows.

He'd started smoking and giving bags filled with white powder to people in exchange for money. For the money he got, he spent it all on liquor that he hid behind some clothes in his closet.

“I-Ivan!”

“It is, so what?” Ivan shrugged sitting next to him on the bed. “Let's just study like we always do.” They stared at the paper, but neither of them was really processing any of the information. Tension blanketed the room like a thick cover of snow on a skinny tree branch. Toris decided enough was enough.

“W-Where are you a-always going a-at night?” He asked finally, setting aside all of his papers. He held his finger tightly so he could remind himself to stay calm.

“It's nothing, Toris,” Ivan stated firmly, still looking at his lax notes.

“Y-Yes it is! It's something! S-stop lying!”

Ivan sighed and finally closed his journal. “Toris, really-”

“I-I-I’m s-scared f-for you, Ivan!” His voice climbed higher than usual. The pressure in his head and chest seemed like they were racing each other to a catastrophic finish line. His whole body shook now, and he couldn't stop it. “I-I’m s-scared, because y-you d-don't e-even s-s-smile anymore! Y-You-You're s-sneaking around l-like a th-thief! I-I don't w-want y- you to g-get k-killed!”

Tears fell down his cheeks, making the crevice of his collarbone wet and itchy. “What a-a-are y-you h-hiding from me?”

Ivan laughed without sarcasm. “Hiding from you? What about all your bruises? I'm not blind, Toris!”

The breath in his sore throat was stolen. “I-”

“And at least I'm not a retarded child!” His words, burning like a fire, hit Toris upside the head. “At least I fight back! More than you can say!”

The brunette tried the best he could to hide the hurt from his voice. “What I-I can say is th-that I still h-have a he-heart. I-I-- I still love you! S-Something you s-seem to have lost.”

Ivan said nothing. He couldn't decide if that made it better or worse. He promptly rushed out the room, struggling to breathe.

  
“I'm in the hospital,” Ivan said plainly.

Toris got up from bed immediately, making quick strides across the wooden floor to get his jacket from its hook. “What?” He asked, voice shaking. He just knew that he'd gotten shot in a deal gone wrong. That he'd gotten beaten up so severely that finally this time it got him in trouble. Toris had known it would happen for months, just not so soon.“W-Why?”

“Katyusha,” Ivan had said. “Katyusha.”

Toris froze on his way down the stairs. “What a-about her?” He asked. All he received over the phone were loud breaths. The older felt his stomach twist into itself.

“Ivan?” He whispered.

“I have to go,” he said, then hung up. Toris dropped along with his phone to the floor.

  
**_Dear Toris,_ **

**_Happy Birthday. Sorry, my gifts were crappy. I couldn't think of anything to get. I'll remember next year. Anyways, giving you this so you can fill it with cool stuff. I think you're a really good artist, so ignore anyone who tells you otherwise._ **

**_You're my best friend, so I hope we stay friends until the end of all your birthdays._ **

**_Bye, Ivan_ **

He couldn't stop smiling and he didn't know why.

  
He’d gotten a Summer job, down at the supermarket on the corner. He worked from 10 to 5, sometimes 6, on the weekdays, and only 11 to 4 on weekends. The money was fine. Most of it he saved up. The stuff he didn’t, he divided up evenly into things he’d planned out as soon as he’d known how much he got. The first part he used to buy flowers for Katyusha.

He visited her whenever he had the chance, gave her updates on how Ivan and Natalia were doing. He told her he missed her hugs and her smiles, and that he missed her voice. It didn’t help.  
  
The other part, he used to buy things for Natalia. It was a good excuse to stop by her aunt's house and see her. He felt like he had to be there, since Ivan never was. She told him about her grades, mostly, or things that had happened at school that week. It was nothing too emotional, but it was enough. She told him that when she got into high school she wanted to apply for the foreign exchange student program in America. He told her that was a great idea.

The last part, he spent on gifts to Ivan that he never gave. Ivan wasn’t ever really there, even though he was. His eyes were never focused on anything real. When he talked, it sounded like white noise.

Whenever he tried to ask him how he was feeling, he'd grow angrier than he was. He’d spit out a few words that burned Toris like nothing else did and Toris would just clench his teeth and let it happen. If that's what helped him, that's what he'd take.

It was that attitude that got him in trouble. That attitude that threw him back into the same cycle of waking up sore every morning without being able to face himself in the mirror.

He kept trying to convince himself that because it made Ivan happy, it was worth it. That him showing such anger was a good sign, that it meant that soon he'd be able to show other emotions, too. He ignored the voice near the back of his head, whispering things his subconscious forced to his attention. _(Ivan wasn’t the same, and he’d never be the same.)_

  
He had a crazy dream the night before.

It had been in a flower field in the spring. He didn't remember what colors the flowers were, or how they smelled, but he remembered that it was bright and good.

He was sitting next to somebody on the grass, but when he tried to turn to look at them he couldn't. He could only lay on his back, gazing up at the bright blue sky.

"It's beautiful, right?" The person asked, and he nodded in agreement. He didn't feel panicked at all, even though he knew he should be. He was somewhere he didn't know with somebody he didn't know. Still, he felt the calmest he'd felt in ages.

The person talked for a while, about all sorts of things. Food, school, clothes, technology, the world and their views. Their voice was like background music. It was constant and full of emotion, a soothing melody his ears hadn't heard from anybody in too long. They pointed out different flowers, giving out the names they thought the plants deserved.

"Are we dating?" He'd asked after a while, like it was just a normal conversational question. The person turned on their side to face him, and from the corner of his eye he caught a flash of blonde hair. "It's your dream," they replied. He tried to tell their gender from their voice, but he couldn't quite tell if it was male or female. He realized a few seconds in he didn't care. "You decide."

He liked blondes, he thought to himself. He loved Ivan's hot intensity and the dominant aspect it brought on, but he liked this, too. He like being able to call the shots, and being able to sit down and listen to somebody talking about normal things for once. If he'd never met Ivan in his life, he'd like this. He'd like being able to lay by somebody who enjoyed him as much as he enjoyed them.

He was sad when he woke up, for he realized that without Ivan in his life, no matter how much he liked somebody, he'd never be able to truly love them. His heart was chained to a shipwreck at the bottom of the sea.

  
Toris stuck close to him. The whole week had felt like a dream come true, but he couldn't help but feel like everybody they passed in the hallways were staring at them. He'd tried ignoring it, but that just made it worse.

He knew what he wanted- that wasn't up for dispute. And yet, whenever he even remembered what had happened a few nights ago, he felt a little ill. His father would never approve of this, he reminded himself. Nobody at church would ever approve of this.

All of it mattered to him, no matter how much he told himself it shouldn't. He'd even tried talking himself out of it, one night, but it hadn't worked as much to deter him as it did to strengthen his cause. And, when he looked to Ivan, with his mischievous smile and twinkling eyes, he couldn't bring himself to care as much as he wanted to.

“It’s not like anybody knows," Ivan replied everytime Toris brought up the social aspect of it all. This time he was trying to finish a sheet of homework for the next class that he hadn't even started.

The brunette squeezed the hand holding his. “But everybody will see!”

Ivan shrugged, pausing in the middle of the hallway and bringing the shaking hand up to his smirking lips. “So what?” He asked against the skin there.  
  
_Okay_.

  
It was the middle of the night, and Toris was still awake. He was awake almost every night, struggling to find comfort in the dull pain near the back of his head. He leafed through memories, trying to organize the jumble of events into a linear timeline. It never worked. He spent hours of his night trying to remember things he didn’t even think were real.

He couldn’t remember Ivan’s smile or his laugh. He couldn’t remember his kisses. All he remembered was how hard his punches were, and the smell of cigarettes and weed and every other drug he smoked or popped or injected. He tried to contact that part of his brain- demand it to give back the things it was holding hostage and delete those it was sabotaging his mind with.

The knock on his window startled him. He jumped from the bed as soon as he saw who it was and rushed to open it. What if he hadn’t? He wished he hadn’t, looking back, but people wished things all the time when they looked back.

The platinum blonde stepped through the window, long coat following him like the tail of a snake. He stood there a while before eventually placing a cold hand on Toris’ cold cheek. The shortest flinched back, but no slap came. All that came were a few monotone words and a hand brought down to a side.

“I might not come back,” Ivan said.

“What?” Toris asked. He couldn’t think of anything except those words on repeat.

“I might not come back,” Ivan repeated. His tone was steady and firm. Rigid like the rest of him.

“W-What do y-you mean?” Toris whispered. He wanted to ask more, but his eyes were struggling to answer the one question already. They caught onto where a pale hand disappeared into a coat pocket, where the light reflected the slight glint of black metal.

“I-Ivan,” he gasped, looking back up to meet the solid gaze. “Y-You can't.”

“I can't what?” He spat out, lips curling like a wild dog’s. “Who are you, my mother?”

“Y-You'll go to j-jail!” Toris exclaimed, one if his hands burying into his wild dark brown hair. His sunken eyes widened with fear. “Y-You'll g-get killed!”

“So what?” Ivan shouted, taking a step forward. “If I get killed, fine! But I won't go to jail as long as nobody knows it was me.”

Toris shook his head. This wasn't how it would end, like some crime movie about a gang member's revenge murder. He wouldn't let it end like that.

“I-I know it w-was y-you,” he said, trying to keep the tears in his eyes where they belonged. “I'll t-tell the p-police.”

Ivan’s glare was crippling. “You wouldn't _dare_ ,” he said.

Toris should've left it at that- No, he wouldn't dare. He'd just crawl back under the covers of his bed where he'd be safe and warm and drift off to sleep. The prayer he'd say in hope of safety for Ivan would be enough, like it was every other night. But he didn't.

“W-Walk ou-out my wi-window, and I w-will,” he'd warned, trying to sound defiant. His shaky tone betrayed him.

He was abruptly pinned against the wall, scrabbling at his neck where the same cold hand rested. It squeezed, tighter and tighter, like a boa constrictor wrapping around its prey and getting ready for the fatal bite. He couldn't focus on the voice hissing out words, only the pain and overwhelming need to breathe.

“I-I-Iv… an,” he managed to choke out. His heart was racing fast, now, beating in his chest like the fire alarm did during primary school drills. Warning him he had to get out even if he had to push through a crowd of unfamiliar people.

He couldn't move his hands, and his head felt emptier- easier to deal with. He could close his eyes, if he wanted, he thought. Just to make it easier. He wouldn't be giving up; just resting for a short moment. Before he could, the pressure on his throat was released. He dropped to the ground like a fly.

Toris couldn't even lift his head, much less his gaze. He couldn't meet the eyes above him anymore. He still couldn't breathe properly. Phantom fingers pushed against his windpipe and though it just made him feel even more pathetic, he started sobbing into his fingers. He couldn't even do that without it hurting.

Whenever snot blocked his nostrils his heartbeat sped right back up, warning him that he was in trouble again and tearing him back down to the same place. His body's fire alarm was broken. It wasn't a drill this time, it kept saying when it rang, it's real.

He'd never felt everything so much at one moment- he'd never tasted his dread and touched his anxiety and smelled his fear and choked on his defeat at the same time. It was overwhelming every part of him. When Ivan spoke from above he scooted back, struggling to find a wall for him to press his back against. He was scared of the person he'd loved most.

“I'm leaving,” he said, but didn't move.

  
"Are you new?” A boy asked in curious Russian. The breath that carried the muffled words billowed out from under a heavy, white scarf that covered the bottom half of his face. A cap sat upon his ashen blonde hair. Sandwiched between them, tentative violet eyes and a red nose peeked out.

“No,” another responded, kicking the snow. He didn’t meet the other’s gaze, even though he was an inch taller.

“You’re lying,” the blonde replied. “You are new.”

“I… I don’t speak very good Russian!” The other rushed out as an excuse. His snow-kicking increased.

“Yet you understood my question?” The boy pressed.

“Well, yes...” The other mumbled to his snowflake covered gloves.

“Hm. My name is Ivan.” He offered a gloved hand, then added: “I’m your neighbor.”

“I’m Toris,” the taller replied. The hand was left untouched, and Ivan eventually brought it back down to his side.

“How old are you?” He asked instead, then offered. “I’m 7.”

“I’m 8,” Toris responded. He kept kicking at the snow even though he felt his feet squishing in their boots. Ivan started kicking too, just because it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Toris!” A man called from the house behind them’s doorstep. “Come in for Dinner!” He spoke in fluent Russian.

"Who's that?" Ivan asked.

“My father,” Toris replied, stopping his kicking.

“Didn’t you say you couldn’t speak good Russian?”

“I… I should really go, now.” He turned around and started walking the hill up to his house. “Wait!” Ivan called after him. Toris paused, clasping and unclasping his hands.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” Toris mumbled.

_“Goodbye.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, explanation that still doesn’t excuse my bad writing habits:  
> the first 3 months of me not working on this i had horrible writers block and wayyy too much schoolwork. about 3/5 of this was probably written primarily over christmas break. when i got back i was pretty much ready to release, but wifi was out for basically 2 weeks and my phone was pretty broken and nonexistent. more school and shit and i ended up in the same place- then i got an idea 2 months ago to create the non-lin timeline even though it wasn’t very needed but uhhhhhh..... then about a week and a half ago, a very very devastating death in my very immediate family happened, and i was again not ready to release. finally yesterday night, with mounting stress and stuff i was like, hey, might as well just release it finally, get something off your imaginary checklist done, and so yeah. this. sorry for procrastination, and have a great night/day. <3


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